


Masters and Pets - Hot Rod/Rodimus

by HiddenDirector



Series: Masters and Pets [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Collars, Fingering, M/M, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Mech Preg, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peaceful Dystopia, Praise Kink, Spike and Valve, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tenuous Peace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenDirector/pseuds/HiddenDirector
Summary: In an alternate Cybertron where peace between the Decepticons and Autobots is unstable but present, Cybertronians who break minor laws or must pay off debts are assigned as pets to those they wronged.Hot Rod is a poor mech who bets away money he doesn't have in a race.  To pay off the debt he is given as a pet to Megatron, the supreme ruler of the Decepticon territories.  What seems like a worst case scenario at first leads to some surprising results, as Megatron treats him much better than expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to note that this was at least partially inspired by DemonsDaughter's "Collared" series, but the mechanics of the entire affair is completely different. Most of how this alternate version of Cybertron works will be revealed as the story goes on. There will also be more than one story, with each focusing on a different "pet.”
> 
> Dirty stuff will be in later chapters.

Hot Rod officially had the worst luck on Cybertron.  It was bad enough that he’d managed to dig himself into such a deep shanix-hole.  That he was basically scraping just to afford the energon to keep him online.

Then the red and orange speedster had to go and bet on the wrong person in the races.

But come on, it was _Blurr_.  No one lost against Blurr.  Then again, Blurr had never raced on Velocitron before.  He wasn’t used to their high-stakes racing.  Maybe that should have been the red flag that putting shanix he didn’t have down on the race wasn’t a good idea.

And now here Hot Rod was, standing in front of Optimus Prime.  The leader of the Autobot half of Cybertron himself.

Hot Rod did his best to look sheepish, hoping it would help.  He and Optimus knew each other.  Surely the Prime couldn’t actually be considering making him work off his debt as a pet.

The thought alone was _demeaning_.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Hot Rod.”

Those words alone made the much younger mech cringe.  That wasn’t _fair_.  Optimus wasn’t supposed to speak to him like that.

“I know,” was all Hot Rod could manage to mutter.

“You know what has to be done,” Optimus said sternly.

Hot Rod looked up at him sharply, optics wide.  “You can’t!  Please, Optimus, I’ll… I’ll find a way to pay it all off!  I don’t want to be a pet!”

“I know, Hot Rod,” Optimus exvented.  He rubbed his optics with one hand.  He wasn’t enjoying having to say this any more than Hot Rod was hearing it.  “You know the laws, though.  You made a bet you couldn’t pay forth.  Thus, _you_ have to be given to the member of the winning gamblers that can most easily pay it to the others who also won in your place.  You will work off your debts.”

Hot Rod opened his mouth to argue further but then closed it.  Optimus was right.  It was the law, and there was no way around it.  For the amount that he bet, though… it would take centuries to be able to properly pay it all.

“It’s not all bad,” Optimus reasoned, standing from his desk and walking around it.  He put a hand on Hot Rod’s shoulderplate.  “As a pet, you are required to be cared for.  Sheltered, fed, groomed.  You will be better taken care of than you can even do for yourself right now.”

“Yeah, all I have to exchange it for is my dignity,” Hot Rod huffed, glaring up at the red and blue Prime.  “I know complaining won’t get me out of it, though.  Who’s taking me?”

“Well, that is another matter entirely,” Optimus replied, hesitating.  He looked grimly at the younger mech.

“What?  You’re not gonna tell me it was a ‘Con, are you?” Hot Rod asked, half-joking.

Optimus Prime looked back at him for a moment, then stepped up to his desk.  He pressed a button on it.  “Send him in.”

After a moment the door opened.  Hot Rod’s breath caught in his throat at the huge, silver mech that entered.  “No…” he muttered, taking a few steps back.  “No way!  Optimus, you’re not serious!  I… I’m not… you can’t…!”

Megatron, supreme ruler of the Decepticon territories on the other half of Cybertron, stopped in the middle of the room.  He was an imposing presence.  “Is this the mechling you’re sending home with me?” he sneered.

“This is Hot Rod,” Optimus answered, approaching again.  “He will be your pet until he can pay off his debts from the race, Megatron.”

Hot Rod looked between them desperately.  He turned to Optimus once more, trying again.  “You can’t send me with him!” he managed to choke out, trying to control himself.  “That’s _Megatron!_   You two spent the better part of a couple million meta-cycles trying to _kill_ each other!”

“Yes, and the last 50,000 of them living in peace,” Optimus said sternly.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Hot Rod muttered bitterly.

“The point is, Hot Rod, that he is the person with the highest ability to pay off your debt to those you owe it to,” Optimus cut over his objections, beginning to lose his patience.  “According to our laws, that means that you belong to Megatron until you can pay _him_ what you owed all of the winning gamblers.  Whether you like it or not, that is how the law works.”

Hot Rod bit his glossa to keep from digging himself further.  He knew he was lucky Optimus had been patient thus far.

Megatron hadn’t said anything for this entire exchange, simply watching.  He looked amused by it all as if they were arguing for his enjoyment.  When it was apparent the Prime had won, the silver Decepticon ruler finally spoke.  “Shall we get this over with so I may finally take my pet home?  I believe it would be to both of our benefits if he gets acquainted with it as soon as possible.”

Hot Rod glared over his shoulder at Megatron but didn’t object further.

“Yes, that would be for the best,” Optimus nodded.  He looked grateful Hot Rod didn’t say anything.  The Prime retrieved a datapad from the desk, holding it out to Megatron first.  “This is the contract.  You will have full custody and ownership of Hot Rod for five centuries.  That time may be extended if he causes damage to your personal property; however, we will be able to take him away if we find you’ve been mistreating him.”

“Yes, I’m aware of the laws.  I helped write them, after all,” Megatron replied, taking the datapad.  He didn’t sound annoyed, simply further amused.  He pressed his servo to the datapad, and it registered his energy signature.  “I promise, he will be well taken care of.”

Hot Rod didn’t like how Megatron said that, but he still stayed silent.  He didn’t want to make this harder for himself before he was even handed over.  When Optimus handed him the datapad, he took it and pressed his servo against it testily, thrusting it back into the Prime’s servos.

Optimus exvented again, letting it read his energy signature as well.  It needed to be noted that an official of the government had approved the contract and stipulations.  He then picked a collar off the desk, handing it to Megatron.  “It is your responsibility to put this on him,” he simply said.

Megatron smirked as he approached the young speedster.

It took all of Hot Rod’s self-control not to back away from the looming tyrant.  He instead raised his helm, baring his neck to the silver Decepticon despite all of his survival protocols warning against it.

Megatron was surprisingly gentle as he secured the collar around Hot Rod’s neck, the ends clicking together and locking in place.  The gold metal looked perfect against the Autobot’s red and orange paint job.  Megatron pressed a servo against the side of the collar, and Hot Rod hissed as he felt something sharp stab one of his neck wires.  He jumped backward, hand flying to the collar and all but hissing at the Decepticon.

“It’s alright,” Optimus assured him, stepping forward with his servos in a calming gesture.  “That was just the tracking chip.  All of the collars come equipped with one.  It was injected near your main energon line so that if you try to remove it, you can’t without surgical precision.”

“You could have warned me first!” Hot Rod snapped at him, rubbing his neck.  “This whole system is completely fragged!”

Optimus looked ready to say something, but Megatron spoke up again.  “Fragged as it may be, little pet, it’s how it is.  Now, come.  I have better things to do with my day than stand in the office of my former arch-nemesis.”

Hot Rod glared at him but did as he was told.  Megatron turned and led the way through the government building, the speedster trailing on his heelstruts.  He lowered his helm in shame, trying to cover the collar with his hands as he passed the mechs and femmes working there.  He felt their optics burning holes in him as they stared at him and his new master.  There was a personal transport waiting for them out front, which Hot Rod practically scrambled into.  He just wanted to get out of where anyone who may have known him could see.

Megatron climbed in behind him and ordered the mech driving to take them back to Decepticon territory.

Oh, Primus.  This was really happening.

Hot Rod was officially Megatron’s pet.  Megatron, the mech creators told their younglings horror stories about to scare them into being good.  Megatron, the tyrant who ruled the Decepticon territories with a titanium servo.

The speedster was concentrating so hard on fully processing what was going on that he nearly jumped out of his own chassis when servos curled under his faceplate.

Megatron turned Hot Rod’s helm, optics sweeping over his faceplate.  “I didn’t get a proper look at you in Optimus Prime’s office,” the tyrant answered the unspoken question.  “You’re so young, I’m surprised you even had the opportunity to get yourself in this much trouble.”

“I’m not that young!” Hot Rod snapped at him.  He snapped his lip components shut immediately after, having to remind himself that this was his owner now.  “I’ve just… I’ve never been able to afford most of the upgrades ‘bots get by the time they’re my age…” he admitted softly.  He hated talking about it.  Growing up poor.  Being unable to put two shanix together just to get the necessary upgrades.  His own armor was far older than he was supposed to have, as all Cybertronians were supposed to have it replaced periodically.  It was impossible for those with limited resources, though.

Megatron looked thoughtful for a moment.  He then let go, leaning back in his seat.  “Then I suppose we’ll have to remedy that, won’t we?  You’re in my care, now.  As I told Prime, I plan on taking very good care of you.  You’re not my first pet.”

Hot Rod looked at him again, optics widening.  He hadn’t thought of that.  “You have other pets?” he asked.

“Not at the moment, no,” the tyrant said.  He ran a hand down Hot Rod’s backstrut, earning a soft whine from the Autobot.  He gave a look of smug satisfaction at the sound.  “But I’ve had more than a few.  It means I know how to treat my pets well.  In _all_ areas of care.”

Hot Rod went stiff in the way he said that.  He became acutely aware that the caresses he was being given didn’t just feel good.  They felt _pleasurable_.  He yelped and backed as far as the confined space of the transport would allow him, pressing against the door opposite of Megatron.  “You… I can’t believe you…” he sputtered, optics wide.  He had heard many owners indulged in such things with their pets, though.  He shouldn’t have been surprised.  “I’m _not_ fragging with you!” he finally managed.

By their laws, though he belonged to Megatron, Hot Rod wasn’t required to follow any orders or instructions which could harm him.  This meant that any interfacing was required to be completely consensual.  And he could assure that he would _not_ be consenting to any of that.

“Calm yourself, pet,” Megatron chuckled, leaning on one of his elbows.  He made no attempt to pursue Hot Rod.  It wasn’t like he could get far, anyway.  “I do not break the laws with my pets.  If you wish to keep this relationship platonic, I will give you that.  All I require from you is companionship.”

Hot Rod looked at him suspiciously but still moved from his corner.  This was going to be a long stint as a pet if he couldn’t at least trust Megatron, no matter how hard that was.  So he moved back over, scooting next to the tyrant.  When Megatron raised a hand towards him again, Hot Rod flinched.  Surprisingly, Megatron stopped when he did.  He didn’t move, simply holding still until Hot Rod relaxed.  The silver mech moved again when the red and orange one showed no signs that he would retreat again, placing a hand on Hot Rod’s helm and stroking it down the side to scratch under his chin.

It didn’t feel bad – in fact it was a bit nice.  So Hot Rod moved a bit closer, allowing Megatron to pet him again.  The tyrant began stroking his backstrut again, this time without making it feel suggestive.  Hot Rod exvented in contentment, leaning against his new owner.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

 

()()()()()

 

Where the Autobots had a government body with a building that was built for everyone who was involved to gather, the Decepticons had a singular ruler and a palace to go with him.

And what a palace Megatron had built for himself.

It was no wonder why the tyrant had said Hot Rod would need to become acquainted with his new home, as the Autobot was quite sure he was going to get lost in there at least thrice a mega-cycle.  He couldn’t believe he was going from a tiny apartment that barely even fit him to a palace that would probably comfortably fit half of Iacon.  It was almost like a dream.

The first thing Hot Rod realized as he was led inside was that while there were dozens of Decepticons moving around and working, not a single one of them paid him any attention.  Unlike the Autobots, who had stared at him when he left with Megatron, no one here seemed to care that he was put in this humiliating position.

“Lord Megatron!” a purple mech who had gone through the empurada (back when that was still a viable punishment) approached quickly.  “There is something important I must discuss with you.”

Megatron gave him an annoyed look, as he had only just entered the palace and already he was being pestered with business.  However, he acknowledged the mech.  “What is it, Shockwave?”

“The… project you asked us to work on is nearly complete, but we are going to need more funding,” Shockwave explained, holding out a datapad.  “We simply need you to sign here, and we will be able to continue without any hitches.”

Megatron grunted but took the datapad.  “I will review your request and get it back to you tomorrow,” he said.

“Thank you, Lord Megatron,” Shockwave bowed, turning and heading back the way he had come.

Hot Rod stayed silent throughout this, once again noticing that he was completely unnoticed.  It was as if he didn’t even register as existing to those inside the palace.  He looked to Megatron as they began moving again, then the datapad the tyrant – no, here the _ruler_ – was reading.

Megatron looked back at him.  “Do not concern yourself with any of that,” he said, gesturing into a room to the right.

Hot Rod went in ahead of him, looking around.  It was an office, bigger than Optimus’s.  It still had a desk, but also more than a dozen shelves of datapads.

“You may guess what I do in my spare time,” Megatron said dryly, moving to his desk and setting the datapad Shockwave had handed him on top of a pile.  Hot Rod guessed that was his ‘To Do’ pile.  “Not that I have too much of that lately.”

“I didn’t even know there were this many books on Cybertron,” Hot Rod said in fascination, pulling one off the shelf.

“If you think this is all Cybertron has to offer in literature, you are in more dire need of caretaking than I thought,” Megatron snorted.  “This is simply what I am reading right now.  There is a library on the second floor.”

“There’s _more_?” Hot Rod stared at him.  He put the datapad back and walked over to the desk, looking at it.  It wasn’t anywhere near as organized as he thought a supreme ruler’s should be.  Nothing seemed to have a solid place, simply placed where it was easiest for the silver Decepticon to reach.  “I thought I was going to be getting acquainted with the palace.  If I go off on my own I’m gonna get lost, you know.  This place is fragging huge.”

Megatron glanced up at him.  “Let me work, and I will give you a tour when I’m done.  I don’t trust leaving you alone in this place yet, not even with one of my men.”

The younger mech huffed, leaning back and walking over to the chair in the corner.  He curled up and glared at Megatron, but knew it wasn’t his place to demand his attention.

“Why don’t you read something?” the silver mech offered, picking up one of the datapads on his desk and activating it.

Hot Rod hesitated, looking away from him.  “I don’t… I don’t feel like it,” he said lamely.  It sounded bad even to him.

Megatron raised an optic ridge and stood up.  He walked over with the datapad.  “Perhaps then you may help me with my work.  It will go much faster that way.  Read this to me.”

Hot Rod looked from him to the datapad, and back.  He felt himself sink further into the chair.  “No, I’m… I’m good.  I can just wait.”

“Read it, my pet,” Megatron said more sternly this time.  “That isn’t a request.”

Hot Rod swallowed, taking the datapad with shaky servos.  He looked at the words written upon it and felt embarrassment well up in his throat.  “I can’t…” he admitted in a whisper.  Humiliation caused washer fluid to build in his optics.

“That is what I thought,” Megatron took the datapad from him.  “You’re the kind of restless that would jump at the chance to do anything but wait, even read.  How did you manage to bet away all your shanix if you can’t even do that?”

“You don’t need to be able to read if you know who you’re voting for already,” Hot Rod replied, not looking at him.  “I always bet on Blurr, and that usually got me through alright.”

“If you could read the lineup and odds then you wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Megatron scolded him.  “On the list of things I will be doing to take care of you, I will also be teaching you to read.  I will not be keeping an ignorant pet.”

“I am not ignorant!” Hot Rod snapped immediately.

Megatron raised an optic ridge at him, chuckling in bemusement.  “I see.”

“Just… do your work so I can learn my way around,” the young speedster huffed, drawing his knees up and hugging them to his chestplate.  He dimmed his optics for what was likely going to be a long wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod has a brief encounter with Starscream. He then gets his new armor. Meanwhile, Megatron is hiding something from both his new pet and Optimus Prime.

The first deca-cycle of Hot Rod’s internment as a pet went far smoother than he thought it would.  Sure, when he got bored and wandered off while Megatron was working (which felt like _all the time_ ) he got lost four times.  The last time it happened, he was dragged back to Megatron’s office and deposited in the comfy but ultimately boring chair across from the ruler’s desk by an extremely irritated Starscream.  Apparently, he’d disrupted some flying drills the Seeker Trine were going through, even though all he wanted to do was watch.

“Do us all a favor, and keep your filthy pet out of the training areas!” the red and white Seeker snapped at his leader.  “He’s a distraction!”

“I’m _not_ filthy, you-!” Hot Rod started.

Megatron silenced him by holding up a hand.  He then stood up, walking over to his irritated Second in Command.  “If we’re talking about distractions, Starscream, let’s start with the one you are providing me _at this very moment!_ ”  He grabbed the flier by the wing, causing a hiss to erupt from Starscream’s vocals.  Flier wings were very sensitive, and that grab alone was enough to turn Starscream’s attitude around.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the SiC cried out, backing as quickly as he could without the still gripping hand on his wing bending it out of shape.  “I won’t do it again!”

“See that you _don’t_ ,” Megatron growled at him, releasing his wing when they were standing outside the door.  He snarled at Starscream, who turned and fled.

Hot Rod watched all of this with wide optics, unable to believe how Megatron treated his own Second in Command.  He almost had forgotten who Megatron was with how kindly he’d been treated for the last deca-cycle.  Megatron held true to his word, he took extremely good care of Hot Rod.  He was fed, groomed, and had already gone in for a checkup with a medic.  They even measured him for properly fitting parts and armor while they were there.

Megatron had even kept his word about not touching his pet inappropriately.  Though the imposing silver mech was prone to petting Hot Rod, mostly as a form of praise, he kept it completely platonic.  In the beginning, Hot Rod had pretty much expected Megatron to turn out to just be some dirty old mech who just wanted a berth partner.

When the ruler of the Decepticon territories returned to his desk, he made a ‘come here’ motion to his red and orange pet.  Hot Rod obediently got up from his seat, making his way around the desk.  He allowed Megatron to pull him into his lap, stroking his helm absently.

“How could you treat someone who’s loyal to you that way?” Hot Rod finally asked when the curiosity was too much to bear.

Megatron glanced at him, stopping his petting.  Hot Rod tensed, thinking he said something wrong and preparing for such treatment himself.  It didn’t come, though.  Instead, the tyrant nudged a servo under the speedster’s faceplate and tilted it up.  “He holds no loyalties to me,” he said.  “Starscream has only loyalty to his own ambition.  I cannot fault him that, as it’s the same for most Decepticons.  However, he is the only one to ever truly and openly oppose me.  _That_ is why I respond to him with violence.  Because some mechs do not respond to anything else.  If he feels threatened by me, then he will refrain from trying anything.”

“Why would you make someone like that your Second?”

“Because it is best to keep those you don’t trust as close as possible,” Megatron answered.  He released Hot Rod’s chin and picked up the datapad on his desk.  “Read this title.”

The red and orange pet pulled the datapad where he could see it.  He squinted at the words on the datapad, concentrating.  The reading lessons were slow-going, as Hot Rod had a short attention span.  But he was truly trying.  “Re… Requ…” he felt himself become embarrassed almost immediately, as he couldn’t even read the first word properly.

“Spell it out,” Megatron advised gently.  He was a surprisingly patient teacher.

“R-E-Q-U-E-S-T,” Hot Rod obeyed.  He then tried again.  “Requ… est…?  Request for the Inc… Incre… Increase of Funds.”

“Very good,” Megatron praised, stroking Hot Rod’s backstrut as he liked to do.  With his other hand, he pressed a servo to the datapad to sign off on it.

“I’ve heard you talking to a lot of people about funding,” Hot Rod pointed out, arching into the petting.  It always felt so good, he couldn’t resist.

“There is much to be funded in government work,” Megatron mused.  “Everything requires shanix these days.”

“That reminds me,” Hot Rod said, shifting and leaning into his owner’s chestplate.  “You’re the ruler of an entire half of a planet.  Why were you betting on the races?”

“Hmm, I suppose you think I shouldn’t have any hobbies, then,” Megatron chuckled in response.

“You _have_ hobbies.  Poetry.  _So much_ poetry.”

“I am allowed more than one, my pet.  I like to indulge in a little betting every once in a while.  If I win, I pocket some extra shanix for personal use.  If I lose, then the money I lost goes to someone who needs it more than I do,” the tyrant explained as he continued to go through datapads.  “Read this one.”

Hot Rod took the datapad and concentrated.  “The arm… the armor you requested is com… com…”  The young mech vented in deep to keep his patience with himself.  “…comp… lete…”  He looked to Megatron, who nodded, and started over.  “The armor you requested is complete and rea… ready to be…”  He trailed off.  Not because he couldn’t keep going, but rather because he realized what this was about.  “Wait, my armor is ready?!” he shouted in excitement.

“Indeed it is, my pet,” Megatron smirked, taking the datapad from him.  He placed it on top of the rest of his completed work.

“When do we pick it up?” Hot Rod asked, practically bouncing in his owner’s lap.

“Right now.”  Giving that answer, Megatron stood up and placed Hot Rod on the floor next to him.  “Come, pet.”

Hot Rod obeyed eagerly, following Megatron to the entrance.  The private transport waited for them outside, and Hot Rod would have rushed to it in his enthusiasm if Megatron’s hand on his shoulder didn’t stop him.

“Hot Rod,” Megatron said sternly.  “You forgot something.”

The red and orange speedster stopped and looked at him puzzled at first.  His gaze fell on the leash in Megatron’s servos.  “Oh…” his joy seemed to melt out of him all at once.  Yes, here no one seemed to care that he was a pet.  But that didn’t mean having to wear a leash wasn’t _completely humiliating_.

“I know you don’t want to,” Megatron told him as he attached the leash to Hot Rod’s collar.  “But the law is the law, and I helped write it.  It wouldn’t look very good if I didn’t follow my own laws, now would it?”

“No…” Hot Rod muttered.  Attached to the leash now, and the other end securely held in Megatron’s servos, he couldn’t run off at the pace he wanted to.  He had to wait for Megatron, which was like torture for him when he was excited about his new armor.

Still, Hot Rod endured it.

 

()()()

 

There was something unique about Decepticon frames and armor.  Flatline specialized in this, being an expert in both upgrading and redesigning ‘bots.  Cybertronians in general rarely kept themselves looking the same for long, despite how stagnant their species seemed at times.  But while Autobots gravitated more towards rounded features with softer lines, Decepticons liked their sharper edges and bulkier frames.

Hot Rod himself wouldn’t have done well with a larger frame, but he found himself fascinated with how much ‘pointier,’ as he put it himself, some Decepticons were.  Megatron couldn’t help but smirk at how Hot Rod picked up each new part of his armor and looked over it to make sure it was to his satisfaction.  While the shapes were definitely more of a Decepticon aesthetic, the speedster had insisted he needed to keep his red and orange paint job.  He did agree that a few gold details wouldn’t be too out of place, though, not realizing that Megatron simply thought it would look nice with his collar.

“Is everything to your satisfaction?” Flatline asked Megatron.

“That is a question for him,” Megatron responded, gesturing to Hot Rod.

Flatline looked at the younger mech in surprise.  That was to be expected as few owners let their pets have any say, even in the choosing of their own armor.

Hot Rod looked up from the armor, grinning.  “It’s perfect!” he enthused.

Flatline looked back to Megatron, as if unsure whether or not it was truly okay to acknowledge the praise.  The ruler nodded and the medic exvented in relief.  “Very good.  I’m going to ask you to lie down, Hot Rod.  We need to do a long-overdue full-body upgrade before I can fully equip you with your new armor.”

Hot Rod did as he was told, still looking excited.

Megatron leaned against the wall, prepared to watch over the procedure.  His communicator began beeping, though.  When he checked who was calling, he stiffened.  “I must take this,” he announced.  He pointed at Flatline in warning.  “I am leaving my pet in your care, Flatline.  If he is harmed in any way during any part of this procedure, you will have to answer to me.  Understood?”

Flatline swallowed, nodding.  “Yes, Lord Megatron,” he confirmed.

Satisfied, Megatron left the room.  He picked up his communicator in the hall outside of the surgical room.  “What is it, Turmoil?” he snapped.

“Lord Megatron,” the officer’s vocals came through loud and clear.  “I believe we have a problem involving your favorite attack canid.”

The ruler refrained from swearing.  “What has Overlord done now?”

“He’s been expressing his displeasure over your deal with Optimus Prime again.  This time he expressed it across an entire bar.  It took fifteen of my men to drag him to a cell.  There are five patrons and a server dead, though.  Thirteen more are injured.”

Megatron exvented heavily.  “I reopened the gladiator arena _specifically_ to allow him and his bloodthirsty ilk to have somewhere to kill each other.  I cannot keep coming up with excuses for why I haven’t had him deactivated yet.”

“You know that, my lord,” Turmoil said dryly.  “I know that.  Pit, unless he’s missed the last fifty times you’ve told him, _Overlord_ knows that.  But you know him, he hates sitting around.”  There was a small pause.  Finally, the officer cautioned, “We have to release-”

“ _No._ ”

“I respect that you’d rather us had murdered Trepan when we had a chance, Lord Megatron.  I _know_ you hate him.  I’m not particularly fond of him, either.  But this is the _reason_ we locked him up,” Turmoil pointed out.  “No one trusts him, least of all when he’s in the same room as Overlord.  But he’s the only person who can keep Overlord calm.”

Megatron actually did swear this time, knowing Turmoil was right.  “Fine.  I don’t want them alone, though.  All of your best men.  If you didn’t lose that pet of yours, I’d tell you to bring him as well.”

The silver tyrant could almost see the black-plated officer cringe.  “Yes, sir.  The first sign that they’re up to something we’ll split them, even if we have to snap Trepan’s devious little servos off to do it.”  Another pause and he added with a hint of amusement, “ _Especially_ if we have to snap Trepan’s servos off to do it.”

“Whatever you feel you must do,” Megatron finally smirked as well.  “Make sure to remind Overlord that he doesn’t need to wait forever.  It’s only a matter of time before we’re prepared.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Megatron ended the call, exventing and leaning on the wall behind him.  Why did Overlord have to lose his patience now of all times?  Maybe it was time to schedule a new match.  He was sure the other Phase Sixers would enjoy it as well.  Their cells were full of Decepticons that couldn’t seem to comprehend the idea that they had to follow the laws put forth by both Megatron and Optimus Prime.  The Decepticon ruler had no doubt Prime had sent a few spies over to keep an optic on him.  After all, Megatron had done the same to make sure the Autobots were keeping up their side of the deal.  This meant that no matter what future plans were in place, for now, the Decepticons had to behave.

Pets were extremely common in Decepticon territory because of the amount of petty crime alone that ended up conducted by other restless Decepticons.  It was only to be expected.  Two million years of war followed by a quite abrupt peace made everyone antsy.  They knew it wasn’t going to last, it was only a matter of time before tensions snapped like a taut wire.

Megatron shook his helm and dialed a new frequency into his communicator.  He thought he could put off his work for a few cycles, but this incident with Overlord said otherwise.

Six calls later, the door behind Megatron finally opened again.

“I should have known you couldn’t stop working for five kliks, even for this.”

Megatron turned around to chastise Hot Rod, both for sassing him despite his current position as a pet and for interrupting his call with Barricade.  The words caught in his vocals when he saw the young mech.

Primus, he didn’t realize how all of that armor would look once it was _on_ the speedster.  His new, upgraded frame was certainly more mature than how he looked coming in.  Even his white faceplate just seemed… older.  Not too much so, just enough to really make it apparent how in need of this he had been.  The armor, though…

To say that Decepticon design suited Hot Rod was an understatement.  The reds and oranges really made the sharp lines and edges pop.  His helm was now adorned with a golden crest, matching his chestplate and spoiler.  They framed the collar he still wore perfectly.  The high peak of his shoulderplates hinted towards a change in his altmode to go with his new look as well.  The spoiler itself was now more wing-like as well, giving him a slightly Seeker-esque appearance.

When the tyrant did nothing but stare at him, Hot Rod hesitated.  He looked a bit self-conscious all of the sudden, which did nothing but make him look more appealing.  “It’s too much, isn’t it?  I knew I should’ve kept it simple but the armor was just so cool-looking, and I just got so excited when I saw it, and…”

Megatron finally snapped out of his stare, walking forward and putting a servo on Hot Rod’s lip components, silencing him.  “You look perfect,” he assured the speedster.  “I could hardly believe how much older you look like this.  Hardly the youngling I picked up only a deca-cycle ago.”

Hot Rod stared at him a moment before a smile broke out across the lip components Megatron’s servo still rested against.  When the servo was removed, he said, “Does that mean I won’t get in trouble for how expensive it all was?  Cause I may have splurged on the spoiler.”

“Oh?” Megatron asked in amusement.

“It’s reactive!” Hot Rod said excitedly.  Sure enough, as he said it, the spoiler quivered in reflection to his enthusiasm.  “Isn’t that so cool?  Starscream’s trine has such reactive wings, and I thought it was so cool!  So I asked, and Flatline said he had a pair of wings he could fashion into a spoiler!  They won’t help me fly any, but they move!”  He looked over his shoulder, and the spoiler fluttered again.  “So cool…!” he cooed again.

Megatron couldn’t help but chuckle.  Hot Rod may have looked more mature, but he certainly didn’t act it.

“I told you not to move!” Flatline barked as he appeared at the door.  He was holding a datapad containing Hot Rod’s medical information.  “All I needed to do was update the computer!  _You_ were supposed to be resting after the operation!”

Hot Rod’s new spoiler lowered as the red and orange mech looked sheepish.

“You are _my_ pet,” Megatron reminded him sharply, turning his gaze from the surprised Hot Rod to Flatline.  “You will speak to him with the respect that entails, Flatline.”

Flatline stared at him a moment.  “With all due respect, my lord, he’s a _pet_ -”

“A pet under _my_ care,” Megatron said in a low, dangerous vocal.  He looked to Hot Rod again.  “Behave like you belong to the supreme ruler, Hot Rod.  You do not need to feel cowed by anyone.”

The speedster’s optics widened a bit, looking from him to Flatline.  After a moment he crossed his arms over his chestplate, spoiler shooting back up with pride.  “Yeah, you can’t talk to me like that,” he huffed.  “I’m not _your_ pet.”  He walked over to Megatron, putting both hands on the silver mech’s arm.  “I’m _his_.”

Megatron felt a rush of heat at the way Hot Rod said it but quickly smothered it.  He instead turned to leave.  “We’re done here.  Flatline can send the bill for your operation to the palace.  Come, my pet.  We’re going home.”

Hot Rod followed quickly, and if Megatron hadn’t glanced back at him one last time, he would have missed the younger mech sticking his glossa out at Flatline.

In the transport, Megatron continued to watch his pet in amusement as he kept looking at himself at all angles in the mirrored partition between them and the driver.  “I’ll take it you like your new look, then?” he asked.

“I love it,” Hot Rod affirmed, looking at his owner and smiling wide again.  “Not just how it looks.  It was really uncomfortable keeping my old armor and frame for so long.  I feel like I never really noticed until I got it all replaced, though.”

“That’s how it normally works,” Megatron mused, running his servos across the side of Hot Rod’s faceplate.  “We rarely see what’s wrong until we see what right looks like.”

Hot Rod looked confused, but he leaned into the touch.  He then turned himself around, plopping himself down with his helm in Megatron’s lap.  “You know, I’m really starting to not mind being your pet, Megatron.  I thought I would hate it, but you’re actually super nice.”

“Only to those I value,” Megatron smirked, running a servo up the sharp crest on Hot Rod’s helm.  After a moment he added, “Calling me ‘Megatron’ is inappropriate, however.  It hasn’t been an issue until now, but you should address me properly.”

“What do you want me to say?” Hot Rod asked.  “‘Lord Megatron’ like your cronies?  Perhaps just ‘my lord?’  Oh, how about ‘Master?’”  He laughed, not taking this seriously.

“That’s precisely what you should be calling me,” Megatron answered, completely serious.

Hot Rod stopped laughing.  “Wait… what?” he asked, stunned.

“You are my pet.  That makes me your master.  And that is precisely what I want you to call me from now on,” the tyrant elaborated.

The speedster sat back up, turning and staring at Megatron.  “You… you’re not serious, right?”

“Perfectly,” Megatron assured him, reaching over and grabbing Hot Rod by the arm.  He pulled the younger mech into his lap.  “As I pointed out before, you _belong_ to me.  This means you call me whatever I wish you to.  And I order you to call me ‘Master.’”

Hot Rod looked away, worrying at his bottom lip component.  He finally seemed to realize he couldn’t get out of this, though, and replied with, “Fine…”

“Fine, what?”

“Fine… Master.”

Megatron felt that spark of heat run through his chassis again.  He didn’t know how long he could control himself around Hot Rod, but he had to try.  It wouldn’t do to slip up.  No matter how enticing Hot Rod’s new chassis was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod goes for a stroll around the palace after dark, but ends up regretting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be porn in this chapter. Couldn't go too long without it, just against my nature.

Hot Rod couldn’t recharge.

He tossed and turned on the pet berth at the end of Megatron’s own.  It sat at the foot of his owner’s massive one, dwarfed but still not small.  It comfortably fit Hot Rod just fine, but for some reason he just couldn’t settle.  He felt restless as he moved pillows around and tried lying on every side he had, nothing soothing him.

It was frustrating.  Why couldn’t he just recharge?

The young mech huffed and grasped the edge of Megatron’s berth, pulling himself up to peek over.  The tyrant was recharging soundly, completely unaware of his pet’s plight.  Hot Rod considered waking him up, risking his wrath.  He then decided against it, falling back onto his cushy, expensive pet berth.  He suppressed a whine as he kicked two pillows off.

Finally, Hot Rod stood up and snuck over to the door, opening it quietly.  Maybe a walk around the palace would help.  The red and orange speedster slipped out and closed the door behind him, making his way down the hall.  While he’d explored the palace many times by now, he’d never done so at night.  Especially not without his master knowing.  The idea of being caught doing it by Megatron was strangely thrilling.

Hot Rod walked towards the library.  It was quiet, which was unsurprising.  Not many would be up at this time.  Perhaps if he practiced some of his reading, it would bore him enough to lull him.

Hot Rod was surprised to find the library door open, though the lights didn’t seem to be on.  He stuck his helm in, listening intently.  Silence.  Perhaps whoever last used it simply forgot to close the door.

“I know what I’m doing.”

The whispered snap from around the corner of one of the bookshelves caused Hot Rod to jump. The library was oddly shaped, with each corner fanning out into its own alcove.  These created blind spots in each one, good for keeping oneself secluded from anyone else using the library.

Or hiding a light in a place they didn’t want to be seen.

“Yes, I know.  But it was either this or sneak into Shockwave’s laboratory.  Would you like to be the one to try that?”  A pause.  “I’m _not_ trusting Skywarp with something like that.  He’d get distracted by something stupid and get caught.”

Hot Rod followed the voice to one of the alcoves, peaking around it.  Starscream was sitting at the table there, lantern lighting the small space as he went over several datapads.  He was typing into another one at the same time.  “Just a few more notes and I’ll retire.  This wasn’t exactly my field of expertise, but I _do_ know how to-”

Hot Rod’s spark stopped as he put a hand up to steady himself against the bookshelf and shifted some of the datapads there with a clattering sound.  It seemed to echo around him in the almost empty room.  He backed up quickly but knew there was nowhere to hide.

Starscream stopped talking as soon as he heard it, standing up and whipping around to the source of the sound.  He appeared around the bookshelf in what felt like no time flat, glaring at the young mech standing there.  “Well, well… what is Megatron’s little _nuisance_ doing out of berth at this time after dark?” he growled, stepping towards him.

Hot Rod stepped back in turn, trying not to show any fear.  He didn’t know what Starscream was doing here this late sneaking around, but it couldn’t be anything good.  “I couldn’t recharge,” he said, keeping his venting even.  “Thought I’d read something.”

“Funny story for someone who can’t _read_ ,” Starscream sneered, closing the gap with alarming speed and grabbing Hot Rod by the arm, slamming him up into the bookshelf.  Datapads fell off of the shelf, clattering to ground at their pedes.  “Tell me the _truth_ , little Autobot.  Did Megatron send you to spy on me?”

Hot Rod cringed at the feeling.  Spy on him?  Why would Megatron do that?  He knew his owner didn’t trust Starscream but did he really know what he was doing at night?  Wait, that was right.  Megatron was _his_ owner.  Conjuring the pride he felt whenever he remembered what Megatron had said in the repair clinic when he was upgraded, he vented in slowly and lifted his optics to glare back into Starscream’s.  “You can’t treat me this way.  I’m Megatron’s.  I belong to your ruler, and he’s gonna be _pissed_ when he hears how you’re handling me.”

Starscream’s crimson optics narrowed, baring his sharp dentae in disgust.  “You think you’re so fragging special, don’t you?” he hissed dangerously.  “Brand new body, nice comfy berth, lots of praise.  Megatron treats you like the good little pet you are, and you think he really _cares_.  Here’s a little tip from one of his _former_ pets…”  He leaned forward as Hot Rod’s optics went wide at the revelation.  “He doesn’t give two frags about you, me, or anyone else.  As soon as your internment is up, he’ll throw you right back out into that miserable life you were living before.  You’re _nothing_ to him.”

Hot Rod felt his pride deflate at the words, spoiler wilting.  He didn’t want to believe that, but… look at how Megatron treated Starscream, who used to be in his exact same position.  Primus, how stupid could he be?

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Both of the mechs were startled as a large, black hand grabbed Starscream by the shoulderplate, pulling him away from the pet and smashing him against a table behind them.

Hot Rod stared in shock.  Over the time that he’d been treated well by Megatron, he’d almost forgotten why the Autobots came to fear him.  This was an extremely effective showcasing, as he’d never thought he’d see the tyrant so vicious off of the battlefield.  Even Starscream seemed completely unprepared for exactly how enraged he’d be.  “You do _not_ touch what is mine, Starscream!” he bellowed at the Seeker, grabbing him by the back of the helm and dragging him to the door.

“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry, Lord Megatron!  I-I’ll never do it again, please!” the red and white seeker kept shrieking the entire way, struggling and stumbling against the hold.  “Please, my lord, I don’t…  I _won’t_ lay a hand on him again!  I promise!”

Hot Rod sank down to the floor against the bookshelf, unable to see what was happening as soon as they left the library, but still able to hear the shouting.  He wished he couldn’t, as it made him truly feel for the first time since he was brought there _afraid_ of his master.

“If I _ever_ see you mishandling my property again, Starscream, even Hook won’t be able to put back together what they can _find_ of you!”

Starscream lived up to his name as he cried out sharply, followed by a whimper.

“Now, go see Hook and be grateful I’m letting you even do that after what I’ve seen.”  Megatron reentered the room, walking over to the younger mech sitting on the floor.  He knelt down, reaching out to him.  “What were you doing out of bed, my pet?” he asked much more gently.

Hot Rod slapped his hand away, surprising the silver tyrant.  “Don’t touch me!” he snapped, chassis vibrating in disgust and fear.  “You made me forget who you are, but that… that reminded me!  You’re a monster!  Whatever Starscream was doing, he didn’t deserve whatever you just did!  You’re… you’re nothing but an evil tyrant, and I want to go home!”

“Hot Rod!” Megatron yelled sharply but didn’t stop the red and orange speedster from standing up and running out of the room.

Hot Rod ran down the halls as quickly as possible, determined to get out of there.  It was no wonder why Starscream was sneaking around, scheming against his master when this was how he was treated.  Speaking of, he passed Starscream being helped to Hook’s workshop by Thundercracker.  Even in that brief moment where he was passing, he could see exactly what the damage was.  One of his wings had been torn clean off, energon trailing him.  Thundercracker had to support him as he walked, holding the wing in his other hand, and Hot Rod didn’t doubt why.  He had his spoiler for only a deca-cycle now, and he could already tell how sensitive it was.  And his was only cosmetic, unlike the Seekers for whom it was a vital part of their frame and transformations.  He couldn’t even imagine the amount of pain Starscream had to be in.

Hot Rod all but stumbled in his hurry to descend the stairs, having to catch himself on the banister.  But he didn’t slow down once, knowing he had to get out of there.  How could he have been so stupid as to get comfortable in the hands of the supreme ruler of the _Decepticons_ of all ‘bots?

“Whoa!  Where do you think you’re going?” Long Haul was at the bottom of the stairs.

“Outta the way!” Hot Rod yelled, jumping on the banister and using it to vault himself over the Constructicon.  One of the advantages of his new frame and upgrades was that he was able to break through most of the limits given by his old one, making him more athletic.  He landed on his pedes behind Long Haul and gave a smug look to him as he dashed towards the door.  Unfortunately, this meant he wasn’t watching where he was going.  “OOF!”

Hot Rod quite literally ricocheted off of Bonecrusher, who had moved in front of the door to block it.  He bounced off the floor, groaning.  That bulldozer felt like he was made of pure titanium.

“You know, we’ve got better things to do than round up runaway pets,” Bonecrusher growled, picking the red and orange mech off the floor.  “You don’t wanna get on the wrong side of Constructicons, little Autobot.”

Hot Rod jerked to attention when instead of putting him down Bonecrusher started back the way he’d come while carrying him in a tight grip.  “Let me go, you big idiot!  I’m getting out of here whether Megatron likes it or not!”

Bonecrusher didn’t reply, simply grunting in disinterest as he made his way back to Megatron’s chambers.  When he got there, Megatron was waiting for them.  His arms were crossed over his chestplate testily, an unamused frown upon his lip components.  “Bring him over here,” he ordered, moving to the berth and sitting down.

The lumbering bulldozer did as ordered, setting Hot Rod in front of the tyrant and pressing down until he was kneeling.  He didn’t release his shoulderplates from his massive servos, though, until Megatron clicked the leash he held onto Hot Rod’s collar.  “That all you needed, boss?” he asked.

“Yes, Bonecrusher.  Go help Hook fix Starscream.”

“Yes, boss.”  With that, Bonecrusher stomped back out, shutting the door behind him.

Hot Rod glared at the large, silver mech, growling low at him.  He pulled back on the leash, trying to yank it from Megatron’s grip.  It didn’t work, though, as it was looped around the tyrant’s hand several times.  He grabbed it with both hands, pulling as hard as he could, still to no avail.  When that didn’t work, he tried detaching it from his collar.  When that failed as well, as it contained a failsafe that, like his collar, prevented anyone but his owner from unlocking it, he made a frustrated sound.  Hot Rod even grabbed at Megatron’s servos around the leash, trying to pry them off.  They were just as solid as the lock on his collar, though.

Megatron, through all of this, simply sat and watched.  While his expression was certainly frustrated, there didn’t seem to be any anger there.  He didn’t pull away or react to any of these attempts at escape, simply allowing Hot Rod to do what he felt he needed to.  It was only when in one last desperate attempt to make Megatron release him Hot Rod resorted to using his dentae to try and bite his master did the Decepticon Ruler finally budge.  As soon as Hot Rod’s sharp canine came in contact with his servo, Megatron’s other hand shot out.

Hot Rod flinched away, expecting to be struck.  Instead, Megatron grasped him by the chin.  Hard enough to show that he was in control, but not enough to hurt.  He forced Hot Rod’s faceplate upwards to look at him, finally speaking.  “Calm yourself.”

“Frag off!” Hot Rod snapped back.

“ _Calm yourself_ ,” the silver tyrant repeated sharply.  “We will speak about what just happened when you wish to behave.”

Hot Rod shook his helm as best he could in his owner’s grasp, trying to pull away again.  “I have nothing to say to you!” he spat.

Still, despite his pet’s expectations, Megatron didn’t react violently to him like he did with Starscream.  Instead, he said, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

That got Hot Rod’s attention as he stopped struggling.  He looked back up at Megatron, who… _looked_ sincere at the very least.  He vented in and shook his helm again, though.  “This isn’t about scaring me,” he said.  “This is about you… you _ripping_ Starscream’s wing off!”

“He hurt you,” Megatron pointed out.

“Only a little!  If he was… was trying to kill me or something, sure!  But just for rough handling me a little?  You can’t just go around maiming people for touching your stuff!”

Megatron raised an optic ridge, a smirk spreading across his lips.  He tugged at the leash, letting go of Hot Rod’s chin.  He instead held his hand out so Hot Rod could use it as leverage as he guided him to sit in his lap.  This was different than usual, with Hot Rod’s legs straddling Megatron.  The tyrant wrapped his arms around his pet, surprising Hot Rod once again by hugging him tightly.  “I will cease my more _physical_ punishments with Starscream if you feel that strongly about them.”

“And anyone else!” Hot Rod insisted.

“And with anyone else who crosses me,” Megatron promised with a chuckle.  “The last thing I want is for you to see me as nothing but an ‘evil tyrant.’”

Hot Rod felt his faceplate flush at the words, leaning his helm against Megatron’s chestplate, servos rising to rest next to it.  “I’m still not convinced that you’re not one,” he huffed.  “Just try to keep the tyranting to a minimum.”

“I will do my best, my pet.  Now, do you wish to tell me what you were doing out of berth so late?” Megatron asked, petting a hand across Hot Rod’s helm and down his backstrut.

“I couldn’t recharge.  I thought I could practice my reading to help, but then I heard Starscream in there, and he was…” Hot Rod trailed off.  “I… I don’t actually know what he was doing.  He caught me watching him before I could hear.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Megatron replied, continuing to pet him as he detached the leash.  He must have felt Hot Rod was soothed enough not to try running again.  He wasn’t wrong.  “I found the datapads he was reading and taking notes with.  I know what he was doing in there.”

Hot Rod came to a realization.  “How’d you know I was in trouble?  You were recharging soundly when I left.  How’d you know where I was?”

“Ravage told me.”

“Ravage?”  Hot Rod had met the feline-former a couple of times but hadn’t talked to him.  He was usually with Soundwave and his brethren.  “Okay, how did _he_ know I needed help?”

“Because I had sent him to spy on Starscream for me.”

Hot Rod pulled back, optics wide.  So Starscream’s paranoia about being spied on was legitimate, though he was wrong about who.  “So he went to get you when I got caught by Starscream?”

“No, he came to get me as soon as you entered the library,” Megatron corrected.  “He knew you’d get yourself in danger as soon as you stepped inside.  While Starscream may not have harmed you by the time I got there, he would have found a way to use you against me before long.”

The red and orange pet looked away from him.  “He tried,” he confessed.  “Was he… was he really your pet once?”

Megatron exvented.  “Of all the things for you to find out…” he muttered.  “Yes, he was.  A long time ago.  Long before he turned on me.”

“He told me you didn’t really care.  That when you’re done with me, you’ll just dump me back on the streets like all your other pets,” Hot Rod felt his vocals waver at the words.

“Hot Rod, have I ever treated you like I don’t care?” Megatron asked, nudging a servo under his chin and turning his helm to look up at his master.

“No, but…”

“There’s no ‘but.’  Yes, I treat all of my pets well, but that is because while they are my responsibility, I also make them my concern.  All of the pets I have ever had, I have never thrown one onto the streets when their internment was done.  They all work for me, of their own volition.  Soundwave was one of them.  Do I treat him as though he is nothing to me now?”

Hot Rod was surprised by this revelation.  Even more so than with Starscream’s.  “No, he’s one of the most loyal mechs you have,” he replied.

“That’s right.  Because I still care for him, as I do all the others.  Do you think if I stopped caring for Starscream after he was no longer my pet he would even have had the opportunity to become my Second in Command, let alone the leader of my Seeker Squadron?” Megatron persisted.  “If you choose to stay with me, I will take care of you as a Decepticon as well.  If you choose to return to the Autobots, however, I will still at least make sure you do not fall into the lifestyle you lived before.  I will do whatever you wish to help you with your ambition.  What is it you want to do with your lifecycle, Hot Rod?”

The younger mech looked away from him, looking suddenly embarrassed.  “You… you’ll laugh if I tell you.  Everyone does,” he muttered.

“I promise, I will not.”

Hot Rod hesitated a moment longer before admitting, “I… I want to be a Prime…”

Megatron looked at him in surprise.  That was quite the ambition, indeed.  Especially for a young mech who couldn’t rub two shanix together.  “And what, my dear pet, makes you think that is a good idea?” he asked in amusement.

“I knew you’d think I couldn’t do it,” Hot Rod huffed.  “No one thinks I can.  Not even Optimus.”

“Prime has told you this?” Megatron asked in disbelief.  That didn’t sound like the red and blue leader at all.

“Well… no.  But I can tell he doesn’t.”

The ruler looked at his dejected pet a moment, patting the berth.  “If you couldn’t recharge on your own, you should have told me.  Lay with me, and I will do my best to help.”

Hot Rod looked back up to him, then at the berth.  He pushed himself off of his master’s lap, stretching out across the berth.  It was large and comfortable, especially the pillows.  Megatron took his place next to the pet, once again wrapping in him in his arms and petting him soothingly.  “Do not wander the palace alone after dark anymore, my pet,” he ordered gently.  “It is not safe.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” Hot Rod muttered back, snuggling in and dimming his optics.

“And don’t run away again.  Decepticon territory is nowhere safe for a pretty Autobot.”

Hot Rod’s optics came back online, looking up at the ruler.  Megatron was watching him carefully, gauging his reaction.  The red and orange mech swallowed lightly, faceplate flushing.  “Do you really… think I’m…?” he trailed off, not believing the word actually came from his owner.  He had to have imagined it.

“Beautiful,” Megatron answered for him, running a servo up his faceplate and to the point of his golden crest.  “You shine like the sun, my pet.”

Hot Rod felt his spark flutter at the words.  “I… I mean…” he managed, resetting his vocals.  “You’re… I mean… you’re kinda hot, too.”

Megatron actually laughed, leaning down and nudging their olfactory sensors together.  “Not a mech of poetry, my dear.  But you still have so many more merits.”

Despite his objections to it when they first began their relationship as pet and master, Hot Rod would be lying if he said he hadn’t at least _thought_ of taking everything to the next logical step.  It mostly started when he received his upgrades, his body feeling more sensitive as if his mating protocols were always ready.  But even before that, every pet and praise made him feel just a little more… _good_ than he thought it should.  So he did something he didn’t think he ever would.

Hot Rod wrapped his arms around Megatron’s neck and pushed himself forward just enough to close the gap between the two of them.

Megatron’s lip components closed around his eagerly, kissing hungrily.  His hands went to work almost immediately, one stroking up and down Hot Rod’s backstrut in that provocative way it did the first time he pet the younger mech.  The other gently fingered his spoiler, sending shockwaves of pleasure into Hot Rod’s valve array.  Whenever his servos reached one of the sharp tips, it caused a low moan to escape the pet.

After a few kliks of heated petting and kissing, Hot Rod grinding his hips forward as he could feel his interface array feel hot and tight, the younger mech suddenly pulled back.  As if just realizing what he was doing, he said, “Master, I… I mean, I should be recharging right now…”

“Will you be able to with how worked up you are?” Megatron asked in amusement.

Hot Rod looked away in embarrassment, knowing his master had a point.  “Probably not…” he admitted.  “I just don’t feel like we should be… you know… doing _that_ yet.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge but acquiesced.  He pulled his hands back, asking, “Would you like some privacy, my pet?”

Hot Rod nodded quickly, sitting up on the berth.

“The wash rack, then.  You will also be able to clean yourself afterward,” the ruler instructed, gesturing to the one attached.  “Return to the berth when you’re finished, even if I’m recharging.  Do not be afraid to wake me.”

“Yes, Master,” Hot Rod muttered, standing and hurrying to the rack.

Once he was inside with the door closed, the young mech leaned on the counter and vented heavily.  “Frag…” he groaned, opening his valve array and moaning as the air hit his overheated opening.  The lips were swollen and sensitive, lubricant already dripping on the floor.  “Frag, frag, frag…”  He repeated the word as he reached between his legs with two servos, rubbing them across the silica of his valve lips.  It felt so good, especially when his servos ran across his exterior node.  He pushed his servos against that, roughly rubbing the node as he ground his hips down against them.

Why did his entire chassis feel like it was going to melt when Megatron praised him like that?  _“Beautiful.  You shine like the sun, my pet.”_ Hot Rod whimpered just recalling the words, lubricant running down his legs.  He ran his servos across his valve again, scissoring them and parting the lips.  Letting go of his steadying grip on the counter, Hot Rod’s other hand found its way down to his valve as well, pressing two of his servos into the dripping hole.  He cried out at the feeling, bending over the counter and venting as he pushed in gradually further.  He could feel the pulsing, needy walls of his own valve and knew he was in trouble.  This was all because of Megatron.  His valve was desperate for his touch.

So Hot Rod dimmed his optics as he pulled his servos out and pushed them back in, imagining his owner standing behind him and using his own servos.  Imagining those thick servos fanning and stretching his valve in preparation.  Megatron leaning over his back, his other hand and glossa caressing the sensitive tips of his spoiler again.

Hot Rod’s venting picked up, cooling fans whirring to life as he could all but hear Megatron’s vocals in his audial.  _“Good, Hot Rod.  Such a beautiful pet.  So obedient.”_   He moved the servos not working the inside of his valve back to his anterior node, pinching and flicking it.  He pulled his servos out, imagining Megatron doing the same.  He added another servo, stretching it again with all three as he imagined it was Megatron’s spike.  He heard the tyrant in his audial again.   _“That’s it, my pet.  You’re doing so well.  I’m so proud of you for taking the whole thing, Hot Rod.”_

Hot Rod thrust his servos as far into himself as they could go, crying out as he servo-fragged himself.  “Ah, yes, Master!  More, please!  Frag my valve, Master, I need it!  I’m so good, Master!  I won’t run away again, I promise!”  Oral lubricant drooled from his open mouth, pooling on the counter.  His optics rolled back as he could practically feel Megatron’s hips clanging against his own.  He pressed his free servos against his anterior node and rubbed it hard as he felt overload well up inside of him.

_“You’re so close, aren’t you, my beautiful pet?  Look at how pretty you look with my spike inside of you.  You feel so perfect, Hot Rod.  I bet you look and feel even better when you overload, though.”_

Hot Rod moaned and thrust his servos up into his valve rapidly, letting go of his node and grabbing the edge of the counter as he felt himself peak.  “Master!  _Master!_   Yeeeesss…!”  Hot Rod held the counter tight, shoving his servos as far into his valve as he could as he crested over his overload.  Lubricant shot out of Hot Rod’s valve as he pulled his servos out finally, chassis shaking with the force of his overload.  “Aaaah…  aaah…” he sank to his knees as his legs gave out, trembling as he tried to catch his breath.

Frag, the red and orange mech hadn’t overloaded that powerfully while pleasuring himself since… ever.  Maybe it was the new body.  He sat venting for a few kliks until he felt his temperatures and air cycling return to normal.  Well, that certainly tired him out.  He got shakily to his pedes and grabbed a nearby cleaning cloth.  He entered the shower there, doing as he had been instructed and cleaning himself up.

After all, it felt like it would be to his benefit to do as his master told him.

Hot Rod wouldn’t mind hearing more praise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod gets a new name. Afterwards, they do something naughty in the transport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, they finally did it! Enjoy!

After finding out about Starscream and Soundwave being Megatron’s previous pets, Hot Rod found it hard to get the idea out of his processor.  He found himself once again sitting in his seat in Megatron’s office, reading to while away the time.  His master had told him he had a surprise, but he had to wait patiently for it.

Hot Rod had been making much better progress in his reading lately, egged on by his new determination to make his owner happy.  Whenever he got through an entire passage of whatever storypad they’d chosen for him to read, Megatron would praise and pet him.  And every time, Hot Rod would feel a rush.  He could certainly do with more of that.  Anything that could give him that pleasurable high.

Ever since that first night he pleasured himself in the washroom, Hot Rod found himself in Megatron’s berth more and more often.  Excuses that he simply recharged better next to the ruler turned to feverish kisses and explorations of servos and glossas.  But every time, just like the first, he’d find himself unable to go further than heated grinding.  And every time Megatron would simply tell him to take care of himself in the wash room again.

Heated self-service, thrusting servos inside of his valve, moans, and pants.  Inevitably all of it turning to desperate cries for his master and a mess on the floor that Megatron told him to leave for the cleaning ‘bots.  Hot Rod felt bad that he was leaving something so embarrassing to someone else, but Megatron insisted that it wasn’t his job.  The red and orange pet’s only job was to keep him company and allow the silver ruler to pamper him how he saw fit.  He felt even more embarrassed, though, that it was so obvious he _needed_ the touch of Megatron’s servos but couldn’t ask for it.

“Those will be the last Decepticon citizens expected to arrive for the current stellar cycle.”

Hot Rod looked up from his book, glancing at Soundwave.  He could barely comprehend that he was in the same position the communications officer had been in once.  It was a long time ago, according to Megatron, but not one that went unappreciated.  _‘Unlike_ some _mechs,’_ Megatron muttered at the time.  It was no doubt he was talking about Starscream.

“Very good, Soundwave.  While I don’t want to encourage every member of the Decepticons to return to Cybertron, as resources are already difficult enough to stretch, I do not wish to turn any away,” Megatron pressed his servo to the datapad he was holding, giving it his energy signature.  He then handed it back to Soundwave.  “Make sure they’re all extremely aware of the deals between the Autobots and us.  I don’t need more troublemakers.”

“Of course, Lord Megatron,” Soundwave saluted, giving a slight bow.  He turned to leave, passing by the pet there.

Hot Rod watched him, noticing the blue and white mech’s crimson visor flash in his direction for a moment.  It was hard to tell with the visor and facemask what he was thinking.  Still, he didn’t make any other signs of acknowledgment.  Simply left, closing the door behind him.

As soon as they were alone, Hot Rod slid out of his chair.  He walked over to his master, putting the hand not holding his storypad on the arm of the much larger chair behind the desk.  Megatron didn’t even look his direction, simply raising his arm on that side and letting Hot Rod slide into his lap.

The pet poked his master on the faceplate annoyingly, huffing.  “When are you going to be done?  I’m bored,” he complained.

“I have only a few more proposals to go over, my pet,” Megatron answered, grasping the hand bothering him and lowering it back into Hot Rod’s lap.  “After that, I will give you your surprise.”

“Give me?” Hot Rod said excitedly.  It had been deca-cycles since he received his new upgrades.  It wasn’t that Megatron hadn’t bought him things since, as such pampers as high-end armor polish and a couple extra pillows for his side of Megatron’s berth (even though he could have simply brought some up from his own pet berth) were among the things he was being spoiled with.  But those weren’t ‘surprises,’ simply being gifts.  If Megatron was withholding his current present, it meant it had to be something amazing.  “Where are you keeping it?  In your chambers?  In the throne room?  In this office?”  He reached for the nearest drawer, pulling it open and rifling through it.

“Patience, my pet,” Megatron chuckled, closing the door and pushing the storypad Hot Rod was still holding towards him.  “Read to me.  That will keep your processor occupied until I am done.”

Hot Rod huffed again but complied.  He looked to the storypad and began reading.  “It is the experience of many, I included, that the folly of romance is in nothing more than the absence of understanding…”

Honestly, even Hot Rod was impressed with his progress in his reading comprehension.  He didn’t know that praise could be something powerful enough to use as a teaching tool.  But every page read through without mistakes, every correctly enunciated word, earned him a stroke down his side and a murmur of a job well done.  The feeling of heat working its way through his chassis with every pet was far more effective at distracting him than the words on the storypad, though.

“And with a heavy spark, I found myself conceding defeat because the happiness of my beloved was more important than even my own life.  I would see him again one mega-cycle, to be sure.  But we would both be so very different, I could not help but wonder if we would still be in love.”

Megatron curled a servo under Hot Rod’s chin, turning it up to look at him.  “That is enough, my pet.  You’ve progressed so well.  But I’m finished with my work.”

Hot Rod’s spark picked up, knowing what this meant.  “Surprise time?” he asked enthusiastically, throwing the datapad on the desk.

“Indeed,” Megatron smiled, opening the drawer under the one Hot Rod had been rifling through earlier.

Hot Rod vented in sharply.  “You jerk!  I was so close!” he laughed.

“Which is precisely why I distracted you when I did,” Megatron confirmed, pulling out a small box.  “Here, my pet.  This is for you.”

The speedster took it quickly, opening the lid and stopping.  It wasn’t the gleaming gold name tag, which would attach to his collar, which stopped him, though.  “Uh, Master?” he said uncertainly, taking the small tag out carefully so he wouldn’t lose it.  “That’s not my name.”

Printed across it in careful lettering was RODIMUS.

Megatron placed his mouth next to Hot Rod’s audial, murmuring, “Not yet.  But if you like it, it will be.”

Hot Rod looked sharply at his master, optics wide.  He then looked back to the tag.  “Wait, you… you’re changing my name?” he asked.  He felt like it should have been too far.  A violation of some sort.  But instead, he was _thrilled_.

“As I said if you like it.  I can always return the tag and have one with Hot Rod delivered.  However, I thought that a future Prime should have a more fitting name,” Megatron said smoothly.

Hot Rod’s mouth practically moved on its own, turning upwards in a delighted smile.  He turned and threw his arms around Megatron’s neck, kissing him.  “Thank you, Master!” he laughed, doing it again.  When he pulled back, he found Megatron staring at him in surprise.  It was the same look he’d been giving him when Hot Rod first appeared in the upgrade clinic with his new look.  And like then, he became suddenly embarrassed.  “Uh, I mean… I’m sorry, I guess I got too excited…”

Megatron snapped out of the look and smiled, taking his pet’s faceplate into his servos and kissing him back.  This one was much slower and more passionate.  Hot Rod found himself melting into it, leaning backward to accommodate his master’s massive form leaning over him.  When they finally parted, Hot Rod feeling his whole chassis heat up as if it were on fire, Megatron nudged their olfactory sensors together.  “I’m simply glad you like it, my pet.  Now come, I have already arranged a meeting with Optimus Prime.  He has been preparing the paperwork for us.”

Hot Rod almost whimpered that he couldn’t stay and fulfill more of that intoxicating physical pleasure.  But he knew that if Megatron was asking that they leave now, it meant they already had an appointment set up.  So he placed the tag back in the box and put it on top of his storypad for when they returned.

The drive into Autobot territory was spent with Hot Rod bouncing in his seat, spoiler quivering with excitement.  The closer they got to the Autobot government building in Metroplex, though, the more he remembered that he was going to be going in as a pet, just like when he left.

Seemingly sensing his dilemma, Megatron wrapped an arm around him and pulled him snug against his master’s side.  When Hot Rod looked up at him in question, the ruler said, “Remember what I told you in Flatline’s clinic, Hot Rod.  You are _my_ pet.  One belonging to the Supreme Ruler of the Decepticons.  Behave like it.  You needn’t feel embarrassed.  If anyone looks at where you are right now and thinks they’re better than you, remind yourself that any of them could find themselves in your position one day.  They have no right to judge.”

Hot Rod vented in slowly, letting it out heavily.  He then nodded.  “I know, Master.  Some of them were my friends, though.  I’m scared all they’ll see is the collar now.”

“Then they are not worthy of being your friend,” the ruler persisted.

Hot Rod nodded again, pushing himself to fold his arms on Megatron’s lap, placing his helm there.  “No matter what they think or what I’m afraid of?  I’m not sorry I ended up with you, Master.”

The speedster felt powerful hands stroke long paths down his backstrut.  Megatron’s vocals rumbled, “Nor I, my beautiful pet.”

 

()()()()()

 

Megatron was impressed with Hot Rod.  Despite the fears he expressed, he didn’t lower his helm as he entered back into the building.  Unlike when they’d left all of those deca-cycles ago, this time he held his helm high as he walked beside his master.  He didn’t look at any of them, simply allowing them to think what they wanted.  The ruler couldn’t have been prouder.

When they arrived at Optimus Prime’s office, they waited for the mech sitting outside of the door to allow them in.  He was someone Megatron was very familiar with during the war, a white and black mech with a blue visor.  Jazz was his name.  They’d encountered each other on the battlefield once or twice.  The Autobot was lucky to have come out of it online.

“Alright, mechs, go on in,” the former budding musician said, nodding towards the door.  He watched the tyrant warily as he went in, obviously still not thrilled that he was allowed to come and go from Autobot territory at will.  Truthfully, Megatron didn’t blame him.

“Megatron, Hot Rod, welcome back,” Optimus greeted, walking over.  “How are things going with you?”  Despite the implication that it was directed at both of them, he was very obviously talking to Hot Rod.

The pet smiled, hands on his hips.  “Great!  Master is way nicer than everyone thinks he is!” he enthused.

At the address, Optimus looked sharply from the younger mech to his owner.  Megatron didn’t react in return, simply raising an optic ridge.  Asking Hot Rod to call him ‘Master’ wasn’t unheard of or wrong.  The Prime was simply keeping an optic out for any evidence that anything was fishy.  “I’m glad to hear it, Hot Rod,” he affirmed, looking back to the red and orange speedster.  He looked him over quickly.  “Or should I say Rodimus now, apparently?  A new look, a new name… are you sure you want to change so much while under care as a pet?  You don’t have to, you know.”

Hot Rod shook his helm, still smiling.  His spoiler fluttered.  “No, I want to!  Once my time as a pet is up, I want to be a whole new mech!  No more scrounging for shanix just to pay for energon, I’m gonna be someone important!”

Megatron couldn’t help but smile at his pet.  It was endearing to see him with so much more confidence than he had when he first came home with the ruler.  “You heard him, Optimus.  Give him the datapad so he can make it official.”

Optimus glanced at him again, and then back to Hot Rod.  He held out the datapad.  “Just so you know, the contract states that you will legally be known as Rodimus from here on out.  Any instances of ‘Hot Rod’ being used to refer to you in government paperwork will be automatically changed to-”

“I can read it, Optimus,” Hot Rod said haughtily, optics sweeping over the datapad.  He was obviously just showing off, but it was effective.

The red and blue Prime’s optics widened.  “You can?” he asked, now fully looking to Megatron for the first time since they walked in.

“We’ve been working on it.  He knows that if there are any words he doesn’t understand or know he can ask,” Megatron said proudly, crossing his arms over his chestplate.

“This is pretty straightforward,” Hot Rod told him.  “If at any time any contract is given to the party, that’s me, and refers to the party as anything else other than Rodimus, the contract is null and void.  Blah, blah, blah…”  He pressed his servo to the datapad and tossed it back to Optimus.  “All sounds good to me.  What about you, Master?”

Megatron smirked as he took the datapad from Optimus, pressing his servo to it as well.  “I see no reason not to agree with it,” he agreed.  “Unless you do, Prime.”  It was a challenge.

“I do not,” the Prime conceded, taking it and pressing his own servo to it.  “That’s it, then.  You are now Rodimus from here on out.  I hope you enjoy your new name.”

“Oh, I will,” Hot Rod – no, now Rodimus – grinned.

“If that’s all with this business, then I need to speak to Megatron about a private matter for a while,” Optimus told him.  “Will you please wait out in the hall, Rodimus?  Jazz will get you anything if you need it.”

Rodimus looked at his owner.

“Go ahead, my pet,” Megatron nodded, gesturing to the door.  “We won’t be long, I promise.”

“Yes, Master,” Rodimus waved to Optimus as he walked out the door, shutting it behind himself.

Once the younger mech was gone, Optimus said, “High-end upgrades and armor, a new name… you’re spoiling him, Megatron.”

“Would you like me to neglect him while he barely scrapes enough together to energize himself?” Megatron shot back.

Optimus actually bristled at the accusation.  “Hot R- I mean Rodimus needs to learn to take care of himself.  As much as I would love to provide enough for everyone to get by without struggle here, it simply isn’t viable.  These are hard times.  You know that.”

“He had ill-fitting armor, unsuitable upgrades, was illiterate and had to rely on gambling just to get by.  That isn’t ‘hard times,’ Prime.  He looks up to you.  You’re everything he aspires to be,” Megatron sneered.

Optimus raised a servo to say something else but then waved it off with a frustrated sound.  “This isn’t what I asked you to stay behind for.  I’ve been looking at Drift’s case.  His claims that he was falsely accused of his crimes are still under investigation, but I can’t dedicate too much manpower to it.  If you can tell me _anything_ you remember from when he was given to Turmoil as a pet, back when he was Deadlock, I would appreciate it.”

“I’ve told you time and again, the evidence was solid.  Are you accusing me of letting one of my men frame an innocent mech just so he could keep him as a pet?” the ruler challenged.

“I’m not saying anything of the sort,” the Prime defended himself, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.  “I’m asking you to go over the case file one more time if you can.  I cannot dedicate any more of my time to this, but if you can find anything, it would be helpful.  Even more-so if you can simply send it to the police station here.”

“I don’t trust your police force, Prime,” Megatron growled.  “I won’t give them a case file from my territory for them to manipulate.”

“Fine, then… could you send it to Ratchet?  He’s the one taking care of Drift for now,” Optimus exvented.  “I’m not letting anyone else have Drift until these claims that he’s been framed have been completely dismissed.”

“If you spent less time trying to please the colonies…” Megatron accused.

“They’re part of the reason I need this cleared, Megatron,” Optimus pointed out, losing his patience.  “You don’t bother to keep up with their leaders, but I’ve been having a hard time juggling them.  Caminus is torn over the fact that we’ve implemented a justice system that utilizes pets, but also since they see me as a holy figure – no matter how much I’ve tried to explain that I’m not – and thus feel like they shouldn’t question it.  The Mistress of Flame is torn between the will of their religion and the will of her populace.  Eukaris won’t even speak to us for the same reason, issuing threats if we so much as touch pede on their world.  I’ve sent what few Beastformers we have to continue negotiation, but it’s not going well.  Devisiun is friendly with us, but I think they’re mostly just afraid.  The only people that have completely embraced us are the Velocitronians, but I’m afraid it’s for the wrong reasons.  They seem to think the pet system is something novel.  They’re starting to implement the same system on their own colony.”

“You’re worried how a false accusation will look to those who are afraid of our system of punishment,” Megatron reasoned.  “A fair concern.  The Eukarians are especially unsurprising.  The domestication of Beastformers is still a problem on the black market.”  He thought for a moment.  “Very well, I’ll send Drift’s current owner what I can find of the case files.”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask,” Optimus finally relaxed.  “One more thing before you go.  I’ve heard that Overlord went on a rampage in one of your bars.  I’m hoping you’re taking care of the problem.  You should at the very least be throwing him into holding.”

Megatron swore in his processor.  He knew Optimus had spies keeping an optic on them.  “I’m handling the situation, Prime.  But thank you for your concern.  If you’ll excuse me, I must return home with my pet.”

“Keep caring for him, Megatron.”

The ruler huffed but said no more.  He opened the door to find Rodimus leaning on the desk Jazz sat at.  “…And the energon is the best I’ve ever filled up on, I swear, Jazz.  Highest grade possible and they’ve got all kinds of stuff they mix it in to make it extra-good.”

“Probably shouldn’t be drinkin’ in that place, mech.  Just sayin’.”

“You’re just jealous I’m living the good- Master!”  Rodimus straightened as he noticed his owner, smiling wide.

“It’s time to go, Rodimus,” Megatron told him, petting his helm affectionately.

“Sure,” Rodimus nodded, turning to Jazz.  “I’ll talk to you later, Jazz.  Promise!”

“Yeah, kid,” Jazz agreed, looking from him to Megatron warily.  When he returned his gaze to the pet, he said, “Be careful for me, a’ight?”

“I’m fine, but sure,” Rodimus rolled his optics, pushing off the desk and following his master.  Talking civilly with Jazz must’ve helped because he was nowhere as nervous leaving as he was coming in.

The transport going back was spent with Rodimus’s helm in Megatron’s lap again.  Megatron absently pet him as he watched the scenery go by, occupying his processor with the discussion he’d just had with Optimus.  He was telling the truth when he said that the Deadlock case was completely solid.  He hadn’t questioned it at the time, but maybe it _was_ a little _too_ perfect.  Deadlock had been caught stealing from Turmoil, though for what they weren’t sure.  He was long since off the circuit boosters, and he was too loyal to be doing it out of spite.  Many Decepticons did it to get the same treatment Rodimus was at the moment.  They were on hard times and being a pet provided more food and shelter than they had, hopefully keeping them out of the need to support themselves long enough to be able to do so by the end of their sentence.  But no, Deadlock had been doing well for himself in Turmoil’s crew.  He’d also argued at the time he hadn’t done it, but that was to be expected.  Most ‘bots that got caught ‘didn’t do it.’

Witnesses came forward, physical evidence stacked against Deadlock… It was pretty open and shut.  He was sentenced to 750 meta-cycles as a pet in Turmoil’s care to make up for it.  He argued and sulked about it, but the sentence was passed, and then he was Turmoil’s problem and no one else’s.

Until an anonymous tip told them to give Deadlock a checkup with a medic Turmoil wasn’t paying for.  The results were shocking.  Turmoil had been abusing Deadlock, physically, mentally, and even interfacially.  He was pulled from Turmoil’s care immediately, placed under the care of a temporary home until they could sort things out.  The commander was thrown in jail for a few decades, and in that time Deadlock vanished.  They weren’t sure how he’d disabled his tracking chip, but he was simply… gone.

Half a century later, Deadlock turned up in Autobot territory.  He was dropped off there by a member of the Circle of Light, who apparently had been caring for him.  He was returning to the Circle, however, and couldn’t take Deadlock, or rather now Drift, with him.  With the accusations that he had been arrested under false pretenses and Turmoil released from jail, Optimus had refused to send him back to the Decepticons.

“Master?”

Megatron snapped out of his thoughts, looking down at Rodimus.  The pet was watching him with his gleaming, blue optics.  He tried to imagine someone abusing such a beautiful pet.  The thought only enraged him.  “Yes, Rodimus?”

The use of his new name made the speedster’s grin widen, spoiler fluttering under his back.  “Can I call Jazz sometimes?  He gave me his frequency, and it’d be nice to have someone to talk to from home.”

“Of course, my pet,” Megatron replied, fingering his crest.  “Would you like me to put your tag on you when we get home?”

“Sure,” Rodimus agreed, sitting up.  He looked unsure for a moment, hesitating in whatever he wanted to say next.  “Can we… can we fool around at your desk?  I mean, we started before we had to leave, and I really didn’t want to stop…”

Megatron chuckled, pulling his pet into his lap.  It continuously amazed him that even with his new, more mature body, Rodimus was still so adorable.  “If you wish.  But there’s no wash room attached to my office,” he couldn’t help but tease.

Rodimus’s faceplate tinted, looking away testily.  “I don’t _want_ a washroom,” he insisted.  Then after a moment, he added softly, “…I want you.”

Megatron went speechless for a moment.  It wasn’t the words, as Megatron had known Rodimus wanted to take it to the next level ever since that first night they got heated in his berth.  Rodimus likely had no idea how loud he was in the washroom while pleasuring himself.  Megatron relieved his own spike each night that Rodimus retreated to take care of himself to the sounds of his pet screaming for his master to frag him.  What stood out the most was the repeated insistences Rodimus cried in pleasure of being a ‘good pet.’

After considering it a moment, Megatron wrapped one arm around Rodimus’s waist, hand grasping his aft while grasping his faceplate with the other hand and turning it up towards himself.  “Why wait until then?” he growled softly.  “We have a long drive and plenty of room right here.”

“You… you want to do it in the transport?” Rodimus asked in shock, looking from his master to the windows surrounding them.

“Don’t worry about others seeing us,” Megatron assured him, leaning forward and bypassing his faceplate, kissing the red and orange pet’s neck right above his collar.  “The windows are tinted.  We will not be caught.”

“Frag…” Rodimus vented at the feeling, leaning into his owner.  “I thought you were the romantic, Master… not the ‘back of the transport’ kind of mech…”

“Who says the back of the transport can’t be romantic?” Megatron asked in amusement.  The hand on Rodimus’s faceplate trailed down gently, joining him on the other side of his neck.  His other hand ran up Rodimus’s backstrut softly, then back down.

Rodimus moaned and vented heavily, grinding his hips forward.  He couldn’t seem to come up with another argument, so he allowed his master to do as he wished.

Megatron kissed across the younger mech’s high peak of his shoulder, leaning forward and giving attention to his spoiler.  The cosmetic appendage twitched and shuddered with its owner, more moans and light cries elicited by running his glossa up to the tip of one and closing his mouth around it, sucking.

“M-Master…” Rodimus vented in sharply, arching his backstrut at the feeling of dentae nibbling lightly at the sensitive spoiler.  “Nng… yes…”

Megatron could feel the heat coming off of Rodimus’s EM field.  The point he was at right now would usually have him retreating, but there was nowhere to go in here.  Besides, he already expressed his want to finally cut the nonsense and act on their building attraction to each other.  The ruler let go of his spoiler, pulling back and looking at his pet.  He was so beautiful, venting and grinding, desperately chasing more pleasure.

There was something Megatron had to ask first before they could actually go any further.  “Rodimus, have you interfaced before?”

The younger mech’s optics widened, sputtering at the extremely personal question.  He looked away and nodded.  “Yeah… I mean, just because I didn’t get my upgrades doesn’t mean I was a youngling.”

“Have you interfaced with your valve?”

“Primus, Master!  I mean… yeah, I’ve done it with both my valve and my spike, but… I mean… Primus!”  He repeated their god’s name as if it explained his entire embarrassment over this line of questioning as accurately as necessary.

“I need to know these things, my pet,” Megatron assured him.  He emphasized his well-meaning by leaning forward and rewarding his answers with a kiss.  The younger mech relaxed with it, exventing softly as he leaned forward again.  Actually, rewarding reminded him of something he wanted to experiment with.  Remembering the sounds of pleasure Rodimus displayed when pleasuring himself, he whispered in his audial, “You’re being so good right now, my pet…”

Rodimus reacted how he hoped he would, with a rush of heat while biting his bottom lip component.  It appeared that Megatron’s assessment had been correct.  His pet had a fetish for being praised.

So Megatron leaned forward just enough to have his mouth by his pet’s audial.  He continued petting up and down Rodimus’s backstrut, moving his other hand to finger at the tips of his spoiler.  “How much would you like to please me, my beautiful Rodimus?” he whispered.

Rodimus shuddered and vented in sharply.  His own hands didn’t seem to know what to do, simply resting on Megatron’s chestplate.  The owner didn’t mind at all, as he reveled in his full control.  “I… I’ll do anything to please Master…” he managed through his pleasure.

“That’s what I thought.  Such a good little pet,” Megatron praised, stopping his petting hand to rest on Rodimus’s aft and massage it.  He could feel the heat from the red and orange speedster’s valve.  “If you will do anything, then my pretty pet will have no problem pleasing my spike with his mouth.”

Rodimus didn’t even say anything in affirmation over the order, simply sliding out of his master’s lap.  He lay across the seat front-first, as he would when he rested his helm upon Megatron’s lap.  But this time he scooted up just enough that he could lick and kiss at Megatron’s closed spike array.

Megatron groaned at the feeling, his spike trying to pressurize against his panel but he kept it shut.  He was determined to see how Rodimus fared.  So he sat and endured as Rodimus’s glossa and servos massaged his spike array, finding wires between his leg joints and pinching them.  “Master…” the pet whined when the spike wouldn’t pressurize.  “I can’t suck your spike if you don’t let me…”

“Is that how we ask for things, my pet?” Megatron asked, petting Rodimus’s helm.

“ _Please,_ will you release your spike so I can suck it, Master?” Rodimus tried again.

“That’s my good pet,” Megatron groaned in satisfaction at the way it was asked, releasing his spike.  It pressurized so quickly it nearly smacked Rodimus in the face.

“Ah!” the younger mech pulled back just a bit to avoid an accident, reaching out and grasping the large spike in his hand, massaging it up and down.  “Wow, Master… I knew you’d have a big spike, but I didn’t imagine it _this_ big,” he marveled.  He shifted forward again, running his glossa up the spike presented to him.  When he reached the tip, he swirled his glossa around it.  The feeling was amazing, and it was becoming quickly apparent this wasn’t his first time interfacing with his mouth, either.  Instead of taking the spike into his mouth, he moved it back down again, licking and kissing all the way down the huge member.

Megatron moaned and pet Rodimus’s helm, encouraging him along his way.  This time when his pet’s mouth reached the tip again, he took it into his mouth and sucked.  His glossa flicked and explored the slit there, massaging it and the area around it.  He began to lower his helm down upon the solid spike when he felt his master press against the back of his helm.  He licked and sucked as he descended, glossa working into any seam on the spike he could find.

“That’s it, my pet,” Megatron vented, guiding him down it.  He kept his attention for any sign that Rodimus can’t go any further, though, not sure if he was experienced with a spike his size.  “Such a good little pet.  So obedient.”

Rodimus moaned lightly at the praise, his hips swaying a bit.  He didn’t stop his master from continuing to push the spike into his mouth, though he did make a bit of a choking sound as he felt it hit his throat.  Megatron stopped, watching the younger mech warily.  After a moment, Rodimus pushed his helm back up, sucking as he removed all but the tip from his mouth.  He then descended again, this time pushing the tip into his throat as he reached it.  He had to do it slowly, but he vented slowly through his olfactory sensor as he pulled back only a bit this time before descending a bit more.  He repeated this method, pulling up a bit, and then pushing more into his throat.

“Don’t force yourself, pet,” Megatron warned him.  As pleasurable as this was, he didn’t want Rodimus to hurt himself.

The only response he got was a low moan he could feel around his spike, causing him to mirror the sound.  Rodimus then took more into his mouth and throat.  He certainly knew what he was doing, though it still worried Megatron a bit.  After a few more times of this, though, Rodimus stopped and sat with Megatron’s entire spike deep in his throat.  He then began moving again, bobbing his helm up and down on the spike while sucking and licking it.

Megatron vented heavily, feeling safe to use his hands to guide him on the pace he wanted again.  “That’s it, my pretty pet,” he panted out, beginning to thrust his hips up shallowly to meet his mouth.  “That’s my obedient little Rodimus.  Such a good pet you are.  Suck on your Master’s spike.  That’s right…”

The praise and encouragement made Rodimus moan again, this time accompanied by the distinct sound of his valve panel clicking open.  Megatron wasted no time in knowing what to do with that, running his hand down Rodimus’s backstrut, to his aft, and finally where he could run his servos around the rim of his dripping valve.  The sounds coming from Rodimus and reverberating around his spike this time were indescribable, besides being full of pleasure.  He began moving his own hips, pushing them back the best he could without dislodging his master’s spike from his mouth.

Megatron moved his other hand from Rodimus’s helm, still thrusting his hips up and trusting his pet to keep pace, moving it to his spoiler and pinching and tweaking the tips.  At the same time, he dipped two of his servos into Rodimus’s valve.  It was hot and wet inside, just like his mouth and throat.  He found the same rhythm Rodimus was working at and began thrusting his servos in time with it.  This seemed too easy, likely from all of the nights Rodimus had been spending recently doing this to himself, so he added a third servo and began scissoring them as he thrust.  At the same time, he began his praise again.  “Your valve is nice and wet, my pet.  If you make me overload before we reach the palace, then I will give you what you so desperately want at my desk.  I will fill this hot, tight valve with my spike.  Would you like that, my pet?”

Rodimus cried out around his spike in response, enthusiasm doubled as he sucked hard at his master’s spike. He pressed his glossa against it, swallowing and rolling his hips.  It wasn’t long before Megatron moved the hand on his spoiler back to his helm and pushed down, holding his pet still as he overloaded down his throat.  It was a hard overload with what felt like a gallon of transfluid filling his pet’s tank.  He then let go of his helm, allowing Rodimus to pull back and vent hard.  Transfluid followed him, a bit running down his chin as he moaned and pushed himself back properly against Megatron’s servos now.

The ruler pulled Rodimus against his chestplate, returning to thrusting his servos up into the younger mech’s valve.  “Good pet, Rodimus.  You’re so obedient.  You made me overload, just like I asked you to.  But we can’t go into the palace with you this worked up.  No one else is allowed to see you this heated.”

“Y-yes, Master!  Please, make me… make me overload!” Rodimus cried out as he rode the thick digits stretching and pleasuring him.  “Master, I need it!  I need… I need you!  Please, don’t stop!  _Don’t stop!  Master!_ ”  He continued babbling and begging in his pleasure-filled delirium, one hand grasping Megatron’s free arm and the other his shoulder.  Oral lubricant flowed as freely from his mouth as interfacing lubricant did from his valve, optics rolling to the back of his helm.  He could easily have reached between his legs and used his anterior node to bring a faster overload, but he obediently let his master take care of him.  “ _Aaaah!  Master, yes, please!  I’m… I’m going to… **I’m going to overload, Master!**_ ”  Rodimus wasn’t a quiet lover, but Megatron didn’t mind.  He simply enjoyed knowing he was causing this much pleasure.

Rodimus lasted only a few kliks longer, servos digging into Megatron’s arm and shoulder as he screamed out in pleasure, overloading.  Lubricant spilled from his valve, coating Megatron’s servos and leaving a mess on the transport’s seat.  Rodimus’s entire body racked with the force of it, arching his back, spoiler shooting up.  As soon as he was done, the young pet collapsed into his master’s lap.  Megatron had depressurized his spike and covered it, so the lap was free for the red and orange speedster to vent and pant, trying to regulate his temperature again.

Megatron gently pet him, being wary of how sensitive he’d be after such a powerful overload.  With the lubricant-covered hand, he grabbed a cloth and began to clean it.  “Such a good pet you are, my Rodimus.  For someone who was so shy about it before, you were certainly enthusiastic about interfacing now.”

Rodimus looked up at him, pulling himself to curl up on his master.  He accepted the cloth from his owner, using it to clean his nether regions.  “I think I didn’t… I don’t know, trust you yet?” he explained, faceplate still tinting in embarrassment.  “But you’ve been so nice to me, I feel like I don’t have to hold back now.  I can do all the things that I…”  He reset his vocals, using another clean cloth to wipe the oral lubricant and bit of transfluid on his faceplate.  “That I’ve been thinking about doing in the washroom.”

“Good to know,” Megatron told him, tilting his helm as he finished.  He kissed Rodimus, less passionately and more as an assurance this time.  “As I promised, when we get to my office, I will frag you however much you like over my desk, though.”

Rodimus looked embarrassed again, but this time he smiled.  “It’s a promise,” he teased.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron gives Rodimus his promised fragging. Afterwards, he deals with a problem at Barricade's station. Meanwhile, Rodimus sits with Soundwave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Fragging. Dirty, sticky, spike-in-valve fragging is finally here. Enjoy, my lovelies.

Rodimus sat on the desk before Megatron, waiting patiently for his master to finish securing the tag to his collar.  The procedure wasn’t lengthy, but it did require him to sit quite still.  The act of not moving was maddening to the speedster, though.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Megatron sat back.  “There.  A pretty tag for a pretty pet,” he approved.

Rodimus felt his frame tingle at the compliment, grinning.  “Can I see?” he asked.

“Of course,” the silver mech before him replied, reaching into one of the drawers of his desk and pulling out a mirror.  He held it up for Rodimus, who adjusted it a bit to see properly. 

The red and orange pet turned his helm and shoulders a couple of different ways to make sure it looked nice.  “It’s perfect!” he finally declared.  The diamond-shaped tag with his brand new name on it was the final statement of his new life.  Of his new _him_.

“As are you,” Megatron chuckled, putting the mirror down.  He grasped Rodimus’s waist and pulled him into his lap so that Rodimus straddled him.

The younger mech laughed, catching himself on Megatron’s arms.  He looked up at his master and felt warmth blossom in his spark.  He was… _happy_.  He never thought he could be in such a position, but Megatron made him feel important.  Wanted.  _Loved_.

“I believe I promised you a fragging, my pet,” the ruler said softly, running a servo across the top edge of Rodimus’s spoiler.  The sensitive appendage quivered as the feeling went straight from it into his interface array.

Even though Rodimus felt like he shouldn’t have been so easy to rev up again after the exhausting overload he experienced quite literally at Megatron’s servos, heat began to bubble again.  It wasn’t just the touch, it was the way his master said the words.  Megatron was always so eloquent, picking his words carefully.  So when he said he was going to _frag_?  He really meant it that way.  “Yes, please,” was all he could manage, which was admittedly not the stupidest thing he could have said.

Megatron actually laughed a bit, like he did when Rodimus had failed so hard at flirting when they first shared a berth.  Rodimus felt he should have been offended that his master laughed when he couldn’t think of something elegant to say in return, but it never felt like he was making fun of the younger mech.  The laugh sounded more… endearing.  As though every failed attempt at sounding smooth simply made him want Rodimus more.

The silver ruler leaned forward, covering Rodimus’s mouth with his own.  The kiss was fervent and fiery, making the red and orange pet melt against his master’s huge frame.  After a moment Rodimus felt Megatron’s glossa flick against his lip components and obediently opened them, allowing him access to his own.  Their glossas curled against each other, their bodies pressed together, servos exploring, hips grinding.  Rodimus felt every flash of pleasure travel through his spark and down to his valve array, where Megatron’s servos on one hand were reaching around his aft from behind and rubbing the cover.  The other hand was securely locked around his waist as if to keep him from falling over.  Honestly, it may have been a possibility as Rodimus felt his legs weaken and his back arch with every kiss and touch.  Finally, he had to pull away and vent deeply as his valve panel clicked open, the servos massaging it on the silica lips now.  Rodimus pushed against the servos, craving the same amazing experience he had in the transport.  He knew it wasn’t what he really desired, but the temptation was too good.

“Eager, aren’t we, my pet?” Megatron rumbled, grasping Rodimus’s aft with both hands and lifting him easily.  Rodimus made a surprised sound as he was deposited onto the desk on his back, datapads skittering off.  “That’s alright.  You’ve been so good, so _obedient_ , that I feel I should reward you.”

Rodimus’s spoiler fluttered in excitement, the calipers of his valve closing and reopening wider in anticipation.  He honestly didn’t expect his master to duck his helm between his legs, running his glossa up the opening of Rodimus’s valve.  The younger mech vented in sharply, legs twitching closed a bit.

“No, no, my pretty pet,” Megatron scolded lightly.  He placed a hand on each of Rodimus’s thighs and pushed them further apart.  “You keep your legs wide open.  If I catch you closing them, even a little, I won’t give you the fragging you so desperately want.”

Rodimus whined at the threat but nodded.  “Y-yes, Master…” he panted as he could feel air vent past Megatron’s lip components and tickle his valve as he spoke.

“That’s my good pet,” Megatron praised, running his hands up the insides of Rodimus’s thighs and to his valve.  He gently pulled the lips apart, appreciating the inside of Rodimus’s valve passage.  He leaned up just a bit, flicking his glossa out against Rodimus’s exterior node.

Rodimus cried out, legs wobbling with the effort of not moving them.  He was determined to be the good pet Megatron expected of him.  Even as he felt Megatron’s glossa swirl around his node a few times before dipping back down to his entrance.  The Decepticon ruler dipped his glossa inside the dripping hole, lapping up the lubricant that flowed.  “Oh, frag...!” Rodimus vented, putting his hands to use by using them to hold his legs open during this pleasure-filled torture.  He still rolled his hips a bit as the glossa inside of him moved and writhed, Megatron tilting his helm this way and that to attack it from different angles.  “M-Master!  If you keep that up I-I’ll overload!” he whined.

Megatron chuckled low, pulling back and instead rubbing the lips and node with his servos.  “I suppose you’re right,” he said, pushing himself up to stand towering over his prone pet, whose legs were still held wide open for him.  He leaned over Rodimus, placing his hands on either side of the high peaks of his shoulders.  Rodimus shuddered and swallowed, but still held that pose.  “You are such a wonderfully obedient pet, my dear Rodimus,” he purred, leaning further and kissing the younger mech.

Rodimus moaned as he tasted his own lubricant on Megatron’s invading glossa.  He almost missed the sound of Megatron’s spike panel opening, his huge spike pressurizing.  “Master, I’ve fragged before, like I said,” he managed through his pleasure-filled haze.  “But it’s never been with anyone your size before.”

“Don’t worry, my pet,” Megatron assured him, pressing the tip of his spike against Rodimus’s dripping valve.  “I will go slowly.  If I hurt you, say so, and I will stop.  Otherwise, keep holding your legs open and relax.”

Rodimus nodded even though he still wasn’t completely sure.  He then vented in again as he felt Megatron’s spike tip penetrate past his silica lips, the thick breeding organ stretching him as it pushed slowly into him.  While it did hurt a little to be stretched like that, it wasn’t too bad.  In fact, the circuits lining the inside of his valve lit up in pleasure at the feeling, causing lubricant to again begin flowing freely.  That was certainly a major factor in the smooth process of this act.

Megatron didn’t say anything as he concentrated on holding himself back, so he didn’t accidentally push too fast.  His faceplate looked so handsome to Rodimus while focusing so much on his pleasure, stopping for a moment with every twitch and vent that could indicate something was wrong.

As it was about two-thirds in, Rodimus suddenly cried out sharply, this time in pain.  Megatron stopped, and it was a good thing because the area he tried to push into was virgin to a spike as thick as his.  There was a pinching pressure of pain, one that felt hot with friction.  The only spikes that managed to get further than this were long but thin, making it a much easier journey.

“Are you alright, my pet?” Megatron asked with concern.

Rodimus nodded quickly, shifting his hips while still holding himself open.  “I’m okay,” he assured his master.  “I just… I need to adjust.  I told you I’ve never had one as big as yours before.”

“Take your time,” the older mech soothed, petting Rodimus’s helm.

After a couple of kliks, the pain began to subside, and Rodimus nodded again.  “Okay, I’m ready.  Go ahead,” he instructed.

Megatron nodded back, pushing slowly again.  For the next several kliks this was the pattern.  A little more penetration, stopping, adjusting, and repeat.  It was very reminiscent of the speedster’s technique of fitting the large spike into his throat, only this time he had minimal control of the situation.  Eventually, though, Rodimus was delightedly surprised by the feeling of Megatron’s hips pushing against his own, meaning he was all the way inside.  Rodimus lay there a moment, thinking about that.  His master was _fully inside of him_.

“Look at you,” Megatron murmured softly, stroking Rodimus’s faceplate gently.  “You look so beautiful with my spike inside of you.  And your legs still haven’t closed, even after all of this.  You’re truly magnificent, my beautiful Rodimus.”

The praise sent shockwaves of pleasure through Rodimus, his valve tightening reflexively around Megatron’s spike.  “Move…” he managed.

Megatron didn’t argue, pulling out until he was halfway inside and then pushing forward again.  There was still some pain the first few slow thrusts, but soon it gave way to pleasure.  Every thrust began to feel wonderful, Rodimus moaning louder with every one.  He began moving his hips best he could while holding his legs open, signaling that he was ready.

Megatron took the hint quickly, beginning to thrust faster and harder, encouraged by his pet’s cries.  “That’s it, my beautiful pet,” he growled, venting heavily with every clang of their hips impacting.  “Such a good pet, taking my spike so obediently.  Your valve is wonderful, so wet and tight.”

Rodimus felt delirious, the pounding of his valve and the fawning words from his master making for an intoxicating mix.  It wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, screaming out and letting go of his legs finally.  “Oh, frag, Master!” he screamed, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Megatron’s neck while his legs closed around his waist and hips.  He thrust his own hips, finding the rhythm Megatron was fragging him with and matching it as best as he could.  “Master!  _Master!  It’s so good, Master!  Frag me harder! **Harder!**_ ”

Megatron wasted no time complying, grasping the back edge of his desk for leverage as he thrust harder and harder.  He closed the gaps between their mouths once again as they came closer to overload, his thrusts becoming shallower and more erratic.

Rodimus’s servos clawed at Megatron’s back as he was so brutally fragged, suddenly crying out against Megatron’s mouth and digging his servos in as he finally overloaded.  Lubricant covered their pelvic plating as he tightened his legs around Megatron’s hips, trying to make sure the spike inside of him was as far as it could possibly be.

Megatron waited for his pet’s overload to finish before thrusting a few more times into the now messy valve.  He grunted and groaned as he overloaded as well, filling Rodimus with hot, sticky transfluid.  When he was done, he pushed himself backward and off of Rodimus to prevent the risk of collapsing on top of the much smaller mech.  His spike pulled out at the same time, a stream of lubricant and transfluid following and pooling on the desk.

Rodimus vented heavily, his cooling fans working overtime as he tried to cool back down.  “Wow…” was all he managed at first.

Megatron chuckled, pulling a cloth out of his hip compartment and beginning to wipe himself clean.  “I agree,” he replied.

The younger mech laughed, trying to push himself into a sitting position but giving up when his legs and hips felt like jelly.  He flopped back down.  “Oh, frag, I feel like my entire lower body is just… gone,” he muttered.  “But in a good way.  Sorry I let my legs close, Master.  I really tried.”

“I know,” Megatron assured him, retracting his spike and closing his array.  He stood up, beginning to wipe down Rodimus’s valve area.  “I was impressed that you lasted as long as you did.  You have amazing self-restraint when you put your mind to it.  Perhaps that is something else we can train.”  He was careful of the fact that after two overloads Rodimus’s valve would be extremely sensitive.

The pet’s over-stimulated valve made the cloth feel more like sandpaper, and he whimpered, biting his bottom lip component.  Still, he kept himself still until Megatron was done.

“There,” Megatron said, pulling back.  “That took care of the excess, anyway.  I have a feeling you’d like to take a rest upstairs, and I don’t think you wanted to wander through here with fluids coating your thighs.”

“Thank you, Master,” Rodimus replied, closing his array.  He sat up and pushed himself off of the desk.  As soon as he landed on the floor, though, his legs gave out.  They felt like they were made of jelly.

Luckily, however, Megatron caught him before he could topple to the floor.  “Careful, my pet.  Perhaps it would be easier if I carried you.”

Rodimus thought of the idea, of being seen being unable to even make it up the stairs without his master’s help.  It was embarrassing, but also unavoidable.  His entire body below his waist felt like it’d simply melted.  “Yes, Master,” he finally agreed.

Megatron easily scooped the speedster up into his arms, carrying him out of the room.  Rodimus almost couldn’t believe how easy this was for the Decepticon ruler.  Even with their size difference, Rodimus was hardly a minibot.  Pit, he was larger since his upgrades than when he’d arrived here.  Then again, he couldn’t rule the much more violent Decepticon forces without power to go with it.  He stayed silent as they made their way up the stairs, Rodimus only burying his faceplate in his master’s shoulderplate when someone indeed began approaching from the other direction.  He didn’t even see who it was, more concerned about hiding his embarrassed faceplate.

Megatron chuckled at the behavior, a deep, rich sound that resonated through his chestplate as Rodimus was pressed against it.  “I feel I shouldn’t have to repeat myself at this point,” he muttered.

Rodimus didn’t even have to ask what he was talking about.  “There’s a difference between being proud of who I belong to and keeping that pride when I can’t even walk on my own,” he hissed back.

The ruler simply chuckled again as he reached the door to his chambers.  “Would you like to recharge on my berth?” he asked.

“Will you stay with me?” the red and orange pet asked.

“No, I have work I must get done,” Megatron replied.

After a moment of thinking about it, Rodimus shook his helm.  “No.  I don’t want to be in your berth if you’re not there, too,” he said.

“Very well.”  Megatron walked to the pillow-covered pet berth at the foot of it, setting Rodimus down gently.  He ran his servos gently down Rodimus’s side, petting him affectionately.  “I will return late.  If you awaken before I do, then you may do what you wish here on the second floor.  Do not visit the first or third floors.  If you feel the need to refuel, see Soundwave.  He is working in the office on the other end of the corridor.”

“Yes, Master,” Rodimus nodded.  He reached up and took Megatron’s faceplate into his servos.  “Don’t be too long.  Please?” he requested.

“I will do my best,” Megatron chuckled one last time, kissing him on top of the helm.  He then straightened and left, closing the door behind him.

Rodimus stared at the door after he left, feeling both satisfied and happy after their incredible interface, but at the same time empty and lonely from having to be parted from him.  It wasn’t that Rodimus didn’t spend any time away from his master.  On the contrary, barring the nights in which he promised he’d stay by his master’s side, Rodimus spent most of his time while Megatron worked exploring the second floor of the castle.  He wasn’t allowed to explore the first or third floors.  He’d been barred from the third from the start, being as that contained the rooms the Decepticons who resided in the castle lived in.  There was nothing really to see there, and Megatron didn’t want to risk him wandering into the wrong Decepticon’s living quarters by accident.

The first floor he’d been banned from exploring ever since the mega-cycle when he interrupted the flying drills Starscream’s trine was conducting.  Megatron explained that he hadn’t thought before of how much work was done on the first floor that Rodimus could potentially interrupt.  It was just as much for Rodimus’s safety as the convenience of the other Decepticons that he dictated it.  Places like the Constructicons’ workshop or Shockwave’s laboratory weren’t safe for a wandering pet.

Rodimus exvented and dispelled the thoughts from his CPU, settling down and trying not to concentrate on that suddenly empty feeling he had.  He’d never felt this kind of separation anxiety with Megatron before.  Maybe it was because of the fresh interface?  No, that couldn’t be it.  He didn’t feel like this with anyone else he ever interfaced with.

Perhaps after a quick recharge nap.  Then he could figure out what was wrong with him.

 

()()()()()

 

Megatron’s first stop on his business was at Soundwave’s office on the second floor.

Most thought it was odd that while everyone else’s workspaces were on the first floor, Soundwave’s was on the second.  Many rumors and excuses were going around for it.  It was quieter for his work, he liked the close proximity to the recharge quarters on the third floor, one of his Cassetticons complained about the décor of his previous office and demanded a change…

Well, the last theory was closer.  The truth was that the office Soundwave now resided in was originally Megatron’s and vice-versa.  It was much roomier, which agreed more with the Cassetticons.  They didn’t like having to share the cramped space on the first floor when they were helping their boss with his work.  And so, at the request from Soundwave simply for a more spacious office, Megatron relinquished his own.

This explanation would have been laughed off by any of the other Decepticons.  What reason would Megatron have, after all, for giving up his own huge office right down the hall from his own living quarters?  The answer was simple.

Out of any pet Megatron had ever owned, there was none he cared for more than Soundwave.  His spoiling of Rodimus wasn’t exclusive to the speedster, as he’d pointed out before.  He felt the need to take as good of care as he could towards all of his pets.  And while he helped keep any of them afloat as well as he could after they left, the more loyalty they presented after the fact, the better care he took.  And none was more loyal than Soundwave.

Megatron knocked on the door before opening it, knowing Soundwave would already know he was there.  There was a security camera outside of the door, as the blue and black mech preferred to monitor any space he worked in at all times.  Soundwave didn’t much like surprises.

“Was there something else you needed, my lord?” Soundwave asked instead of a greeting.  He was referring to their meeting before the ruler had taken his current pet to get his name changed.

“Nothing vital, I simply wanted to inform you that Rodimus may come by later to refuel,” Megatron answered him.

“What do we look like, a bar?” Frenzy muttered, sprawled across his brother’s lap in the corner.  Both were looking over separate reports, though they looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.

“Watch your words,” Soundwave warned them sharply.

“Yeah, not in front of the big boss, dumbaft,” Rumble elbowed the blue and white cassette.

“Ow!  Watch the hardware!” Frenzy snapped back, smacking his black and red brother with the datapad he was holding.

Soundwave made a frustrated sound, rubbing his faceplate.  “Forgive them, my lord.  As with many of your forces, they are restless.  Laserbeak is monitoring Shockwave’s laboratory, Ravage is covering Starscream, and Ratbat is keeping watch over the arrival of the new citizens.  But I cannot trust these two to conduct recon.  They lack stealth.”

“No matter,” Megatron waved him off, watching the two former harvesters wrestle for a moment before turning his attention back to his communications officer.  “As long as you keep them from causing trouble.  I don’t need another Overlord running around.”

“Speaking of Overlord,” Soundwave took the opportunity to change the subject.  “Turmoil sent me a message for you to meet him in Barricade’s police station.  He would not tell me what it was about.  I assume that since he sent the message through me, it is something he did not want others to find out about.”

“I suspect you are right,” Megatron nodded.  There was no line of communication to Megatron more secure than going through Soundwave, not even going directly to the ruler himself.  “I was going to be visiting Barricade tonight on different business anyway,” he said.  “I will head straight there as soon as I am done here, then.  Inform him that I’m on my way.”

“Yes, my lord,” Soundwave confirmed.

Megatron turned to leave but paused.  “Soundwave, what do you think of Rodimus?”

“He is restless but obedient,” Soundwave immediately answered.  The blue and black communications ‘bot was always honest with his master.  “Are you considering keeping him after his internment is over?”

“I’m considering it,” Megatron admitted.  This time he left fully.

As Megatron walked down the hall and stairs, he considered the question.  Would he try to convince Rodimus to switch sides?  To remain in the Decepticons as something more than Megatron’s property?

The prospect was tempting.  In the short time he’d been there, Rodimus had become far dearer to the Decepticon ruler than he could have guessed was possible.  Something was charming about Rodimus’s energy and passion.  It was hard to bring out of him without coaxing, though.  The life he lived before now, the life without purpose outside of war had killed Rodimus’s sense of worth.  If he remained there in the Decepticons, then Megatron could make sure he would never feel as though he couldn’t live up to his dreams of leadership.

But those dreams were where his desire to keep Rodimus there in the Decepticons became problematic.

“Take me to Barricade’s station,” Megatron ordered his transport driver as he entered the back seat.  The vehicle took off, and he watched the passing scenery of the city while continuing his train of thought.

Rodimus wanted to be a Prime some mega-cycle.

Decepticons couldn’t be Primes.

Was Megatron willing to kill Rodimus’s dream just to keep him near?  He’d already built the red and orange mech up so much.  Had gifted him his new name because he knew Rodimus would enjoy sounding like something closer to that which he aspired to be.  He wanted the younger mech to believe, to _know_ that he could become what he wanted, no matter what anyone said.  That was what Megatron had started his rebellion for, after all.  So no one could be told what they could and could not be.

There was also the fact that once the war inevitably started back up, it meant that Rodimus would be opposing him once more in the Autobots.  What would Megatron do if he or any of his men ended up fighting Rodimus?  Could he do it?  The Decepticon leader inside of him said that he was willing to fight – willing to kill – anyone who stood in his way.

The master inside of him made his tank turn at the idea of harming Rodimus, even after he left his care.

Megatron rubbed his faceplate and exvented.  He had no regrets over bringing Rodimus into his care.  But it was certainly complicating his plans.

Arriving at his destination, the Decepticon ruler walked into the police station to find Turmoil and Barricade both waiting for him.  He’d expected to meet the black painted pair, Turmoil completely so and Barricade with his purple details, in the latter’s office.  “What is this about, you two?” he asked suspiciously.

“There’s been a… uh… situation,” Turmoil answered hesitantly.  He scratched his faceplate nervously, which was something he almost never was.  That wasn’t a good sign.  “We shouldn’t talk about it out here.”

“Then why didn’t you meet me in Barricade’s office?” the leader snapped.

Barricade, who was less antsy, gestured to the holding cells.  “Because this is gonna go smoother if we just show you,” he said.  He led the way as they descended into the lower levels of the cells, where they kept those who were more likely to cause trouble.  There were a few mechs down there, mostly larger frames that probably tried to amuse themselves the way Overlord had and gotten themselves a few mega-cycles down here as a result.

It was who was in the last cell that made Megatron’s vents catch, though.

“Well, well, well,” Trepan’s smooth vocals found Megatron’s audials, causing him to almost break into a rage where he stood.  There was no one in the universe Megatron hated more than the mech that had almost stolen everything down to his free will from him.  “The mighty lord finally descended from his throne to deign to grace me with his presence.  I’m flattered.”

“What is he doing here?” Megatron snapped, pointing into the cell.  “He should be locked away in maximum holding!”

“Now, now, Megsy,” the mnemosurgeon purred, standing from the cot he had been laying on.  He walked over to the laser bars separating them and put a hand on his hip.  “You can hardly blame them.  A mech in my condition shouldn’t be kept with all of those horrible, dangerous criminals.”

Megatron glared at him before snapping at the two mechs who had remained uncomfortably silent.  “What is he talking about?!”

“Look, before you get angry, you have to understand…” Turmoil began instead of answering straight.  “When we took him to Overlord to calm him down, we all kept a careful optic on them.  All of us!  But Overlord demanded to have time alone with him so they could… ah… you know…”

“Trepan is carrying,” Barricade finally answered bluntly.

Megatron looked at them as if they had grown extra helms.  He looked back to the smug orange and white mnemosurgeon in the cell, optics traveling down to his midsection.  It had only been a couple of deca-cycles so he wouldn’t be showing yet.  “You…” he growled low, turning back to Turmoil and slamming him against the wall.  “You’re completely sure?”

“Yes, Lord Megatron,” Turmoil replied, the huge warrior seeming to shrink under Megatron’s enraged gaze.  “We called in several medics to check.  He’s definitely carrying, and he’s where he should be in the process for how long ago he was brought to Overlord.”

“Does Overlord know?!”

“No, not yet!” Turmoil assured him.  “He’s been training with the other Phase Sixers ever since you announced the arena reopening!  Overlord has no idea this is happening!”

Megatron let him go with a frustrated growl, pacing back and forth.  This wasn’t happening right now.  It was the _last_ thing he needed.

“Boss, I can’t keep him here,” Barricade spoke up, gesturing to the mnemosurgeon.  Trepan watched them in amusement.  “We’re not a clinic.  We don’t have what we would need to take care of someone carrying a sparkling.”

“You wouldn’t actually think of endangering a poor, innocent, helpless little sparkling just because you hate his carrier, would you?” Trepan asked in mock-worry.  His devious smile betrayed his words, leaning on the wall in a show of insincere distress.  “Whatever will happen to me and this little bitlet if I’m kept locked away?  You could possibly place me somewhere with proper care facilities, but…”  He made a show of venting in as if having a revelation.  “What will Overlord do when he finds out you’re holding his sparkmate and sparkling against our will?  Would you blame him for the rampage he may conduct?”  The orange and white mech’s smile widened darkly.  “What would you tell Optimus Prime and his Autobots when their spies found out that you were holding a carrier prisoner for no other reason than you hated him?  That you were keeping a sire and carrier from raising and caring for their sparkling?  However would you explain that to your new _friends_ on the other side of the planet?”

Megatron watched him as the mnemosurgeon exposited, anger growing in his spark the more he was mocked by him.  He punched the wall on the other side of the bars where Trepan leaned.  “You little…” he restrained himself from using language that would compromise his reputation.  “You and Overlord planned this!”  He didn’t know what sickened him more; the fact that Overlord and Trepan had outsmarted the system by figuring out how to use their deal with the Autobots to free the devious mnemosurgeon or the fact that they were using an unborn sparkling as a tool for it.

“It’s up to you now, Megatron,” Trepan hissed through the bars.  “I know that the one thing you will not compromise, the one moral you still hold onto, is your belief that every sparkling should be given a chance at life.  Will you compromise that just to keep me, and through me Overlord, under your thumb?”

The silver Decepticon ruler roared in rage at the corner he’d been backed into, punching the wall again.  This time the force of both his yell and the impact of his fist against the wall right through the bars from Trepan was enough to force the mnemosurgeon to flinch away, backing quickly.  There was no more doubt that his carrier protocols had been activated, as he instinctively threw his arms around his midsection.

“My Lord?” Turmoil cautioned.

“I will consider my position in this matter,” Megatron growled through the bars at Trepan, not acknowledging the warrior.  “You will stay right here until I have made my decision.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Megsy,” Trepan hissed back, walking back to the cot and sitting down.

Megatron turned and stormed out of the underground holding cells before he got angry enough to open the bars and indeed compromise his morals.

Once the three were in Barricade’s office, door shut and safe to speak freely, Megatron grabbed Turmoil by the front of his armor and threw him so hard at Barricade’s desk that the soldier toppled over it.  “How dare you be so incompetent that you allowed something like this to happen?!” he roared at the black-painted mech.  “I told you to do _one thing_ , Turmoil!  Do not leave them alone!  You couldn’t even manage that!”

“I’m sorry, Lord Megatron!” Turmoil defended himself verbally, keeping the desk between them.  “It didn’t seem right not to allow them this one thing!  We kept an optic on them through the monitors!  They didn’t do anything but frag, I swear!  I don’t know when they had time to plan anything!”

“You think two mechs can’t communicate with each other while fragging?” Barricade couldn’t help but guffaw.  “They’re sparkmates, dumbaft!  They probably mastered the art of talkin’ to each other without needing to stop grinding before we even caught up with them!”

“I should have left you to that task, Barricade,” Megatron sneered.  “You’re obviously far more competent.  Now I need to consider all of my options because Trepan is right.  Because of our deal with the Autobots and the fact that they’re spying on us just as much as we’re spying on them, it’s only a matter of time before they find out about this.  If Optimus Prime finds that I am keeping a carrier from the sire of his sparkling without proper cause, he will have every reason to send an actual team to investigate my territory and palace.  I _cannot_ let him do that.  If he discovers our preparations, we’re finished.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Barricade asked.

“Leave that to me.  Meanwhile, Turmoil,” Megatron sneered at the soldier.  “I suggest you leave while I still have enough self-restraint not to murder you for your incompetence in front of an officer of the law.”

“Yes, my lord!” Turmoil saluted and retreated from the office quickly, not looking back.

Megatron watched him leave, then exvented.  He rubbed his faceplate with two servos.  “Before I leave, Barricade, there is one other matter I must discuss.  I need the case files for the Deadlock case.”

Barricade raised an optic ridge.  “No wonder you couldn’t get rid of Turmoil fast enough,” he mused.  “That case was solid, boss.  You know that.  I know that.  What’s the point of trudging up something like that?  Sure, Turmoil was abusin’ the guy, but that doesn’t mean what Deadlock said about it being a setup holds a lick’a truth.”

“I’m not asking for your opinion, Barricade,” Megatron growled dangerously at him.  He was already out of patience after the reveal of Trepan’s condition.  “I am _ordering_ you to bring me his case file.  All of it.  I want every record of every witness account and piece of evidence.”

“Sure, boss,” Barricade shrugged and left the office.

Megatron sat down heavily in one of the seats at the now askew desk.  This was a disaster.  He couldn’t just let Trepan and Overlord simply _be_.  Those two were dangerous together.  He knew Overlord had aspirations of overthrowing the Decepticon ruler.  He was far more likely to succeed than Starscream if he had the conniving mind of Trepan on his side again.

 

()()()()()

 

Rodimus came out of recharge slowly, sitting up and stretching.  He checked his internal clock.  It’d been three cycles since Megatron had left him in there.  Not much recharge, but it would keep him going until it was actually time to hit the berth.

The red and orange pet stood carefully, testing his legs.  He was able to stand and walk now, luckily.  That didn’t mean he could do much more than that, but it was a start.

Scrap, that had been the most intense fragging he’d had in a long time.  He made his way to the wash rack to wash away the rest of the evidence of it before he went to refuel.  He looked at himself in the mirror as he turned the cleanser on and stopped, looking between his legs.  “Oh, man…” he laughed, running a servo up the silver paint transfer inside of his thighs.  This was going to take more work than he originally thought.

By the time Rodimus was cleaned, waxed, and had scraped the paint transfer off of himself, more of the feeling had crept back into his legs.  Which was good, because he was feeling extremely thirsty by that point.  He needed some fuel and fast.  So he made his way down the hall towards Soundwave’s office.  He paused a moment outside of the massive doors before knocking.

“Come in,” Soundwave’s mechanical vocals emerged from the speaker next to the door.

Rodimus did as he was told, opening the door and looking around.  Though he’d passed by it many times, the pet had never been inside.  It was much larger than Megatron’s office, which was surprising.  There were couches on each side of it opposite Soundwave’s desk.  A large computer took up the space behind him.  The communications officer was alone, which was unusual for him.  At least one of his Cassetticons was usually with the blue and white mech.

“What do you require?” Soundwave asked, not looking up from his work.

“Uh, I just… Master said I could ask you for fuel if I needed any,” Rodimus answered awkwardly.  He’d barely said two sentences to Soundwave before this moment.

The older mech finally looked at him, faceplate still unreadable.  He gestured to a cabinet near his desk.  “Help yourself,” he instructed.

“Thanks,” Rodimus nodded, relaxing as he walked over.  He opened the doors on the ornate cabinet and pulled out a bottle and glass.  He glanced at Soundwave again.  “You want any?”

Soundwave actually looked a bit surprised at the offer, remaining silent for a moment.  He then answered, “Yes.  Please.”

Rodimus couldn’t help but grin at hearing his master’s intimidating officer use that word.  He grabbed another glass and walked over to the desk, putting the glasses down and pouring energon into each.  He put the bottle to the side and sat down in the chair across from the desk, taking a long drink.  He didn’t realize how under fueled two overloads would make him.  He watched Soundwave take the other glass, optics resetting in surprise when Soundwave’s faceplate clicked open and he began to refuel as well.

When Soundwave was done drinking, he looked at Rodimus and stared back.  “What?” he asked testily.

The young pet shook his helm and looked away, not realizing he’d been staring.  “S-sorry,” he apologized, though he still chuckled.  “I just… I didn’t realize you had an actual, you know, _face_ under there.”

Soundwave frowned at him but didn’t comment.  He instead took another drink before asking, “Why did Lord Megatron send you to me when he could have let you refuel with the stores in his quarters?”

Rodimus shrugged, swirling the energon around in his glass.  “Couldn’t tell you,” he said honestly.  He knew there was fuel in Megatron’s berth chambers.  He and his master had indulged in it more than once when they didn’t feel like leaving the room.  He never even thought to question Megatron’s orders to come here if he needed to refuel, though.  “Master can be kinda weird sometimes.”

“Hmm,” Soundwave made a mechanical hum with the back of his vocals as he emptied his glass.  He put it to the side, but instead of snapping his faceplate closed and resuming his work he moved the datapads to the other side as well and leaned forward.  He laced his servos together in front of his faceplate and watched Rodimus carefully.  “What are your intentions, Autobot?” he finally asked.

“Intentions?” Rodimus echoed in confusion.

“Why are you here?  I have been looking into the circumstances of your arrival, and they are astronomically unlikely.  A young mech with barely any income happens to bet more than he can afford on the least likely racer in a race that Lord Megatron just happens to not only be betting on but wins.  Said young mech is thus forced to become the pet of Optimus Prime’s biggest threat.  It is a perfect place for someone who has been sent to keep an optic on Lord Megatron to end up in.”

Rodimus stared at Soundwave as he said all of this.  The blue and white mech couldn’t _seriously_ think that he and Optimus orchestrated this entire thing just to have someone spying on his master, could he?  Apparently so, as even without his face covered his expression remained neutral.  He _was_ serious.  “Whoa, whoa,” the red and orange speedster sat up and put his glass to the side.  “You think I’m here on purpose?  I _wish_ Optimus trusted me enough to send me on something like this!”  He actually had to laugh a bit at the idea.  “I’m just really unlucky!  Or… actually, maybe I’m lucky after all.  Cause, like you said, what were the odds I’d ever have ended up with someone who’d be as nice to me as Master’s been?”

Soundwave didn’t answer for a moment.  “You are honest,” he finally said.

“Uh, yeah?” the younger mech rolled his optics.  “I mean, I’m flattered you seem to think I’m some kind of criminal mastermind or whatever.”

Soundwave leaned back again.  “My apologies for suspecting you, then,” he said.  “You must understand that I only have Lord Megatron’s best intentions in mind.”

“You really love him a lot, don’t you?”

Soundwave finally reacted to that question.  His mouth fell open, staring in shock at the young mech sitting across from him.  He recovered quickly, snapping his faceplate shut again to cover his loss of emotional control.  He couldn’t do it before Rodimus saw his faceplate flush in response, though.  “Any feelings I may have are none of your concern,” the communications mech snapped.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” Rodimus grinned at him, standing up.  “Thanks for the fuel, Soundwave.  I’m gonna go find something to do until Master gets back.  I wouldn’t worry about those feelings too much, though.  Master loves you, too.  I can tell when he talks about you.”

With those last words, Rodimus exited the room, leaving Soundwave to stare after him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron's patience with Starscream is tested. Meanwhile, Rodimus watches the Combaticons in the second-floor training room. This leads to unexpected consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, everyone! Sorry for the delay! Life's kind of been ganging up on me, but I'm back!

Megatron returned to the palace and debated going straight to look for his pet.  No, there were still things he needed to get done.

Always more work to do.

The silver ruler entered his office and exvented, chuckling lightly.  Even though he’d wiped the fluid evidence of what they’d done away, there was still a mess.  Datapads, desk ornaments, and even the box Rodimus’s new tag came in were scattered across the floor.  He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he engaged in physical intimacy that _enthusiastic_ before.  Then again, he never had a pet as energetic as Rodimus before, either.

Megatron began picking things up, reorganizing his work.  Finished in one pile, unfinished in another.  Requests he was still pending on to the side.  He put the box for Rodimus’s tag back in the drawer, just in case.  The last datapad, which skittered a good distance across the floor, was the one Rodimus had been reading earlier that mega-cycle.  Megatron had suggested it after Rodimus requested something advanced.  _Musings on an Empty Spark_ was a classic.  A romantic tragedy written pre-war that, at its core, was a well disguised political statement about the segregation caused by Functionism.  He wasn’t sure Rodimus actually understood the meaning behind the tale, but he seemed to be enjoying it.

When Megatron picked it up, he frowned.  Something was odd about it.  He couldn’t put his servo on it, but…

The ruler activated it.  The then nearly dropped it.  What appeared wasn’t the tragedy, but rather a set of impeccably organized notes with a header that made his spark stop.

_Spacebridge Project 8339-Zeta_

These were Shockwave’s notes on their current secret projects.  The ones the Autobots couldn’t know about.  But how…?

Megatron turned the datapad over in his servos until he found the source of the anomaly.  A chip in the data drive that didn’t belong.  He popped it out and reset the datapad.  It took a moment to reboot, but then activated to the familiar story.

Megatron exvented in relief, putting the pad back on its shelf.  He then puzzled over the chip.  Who could have entered his locked office while he and Rodimus were away?  Better question, who _would_ have for the purpose of planting the notes there?  What did _any_ Decepticon have to gain from sabotaging him?

The answer was painfully obvious and came with it the answer to how.  So the enraged Decepticon leader stormed out of his office and to the open training area in the back of the palace where the fliers could be found.

“ _Starscream!_   Skywarp!  Thundercracker!”  Megatron’s vocals boomed across the training grounds.  Every flier and Seeker halted what they were doing.  Thrust, Dirge, and Ramjet looked at each other and were barely able to hide the grins that they shared.

The Seeker commander was in _trouble_.

Starscream and his trine-mates landed in front of their leader, looking nervous.  No one could blame them.

“To what do we owe this-”

“ _Silence!_ ” Megatron snapped before Starscream could even finish one sentence.  “The rest of you!  Out, now!”

The rest of the fliers wasted no time in doing what they were told.  The area cleared quickly, leaving the trine with their livid ruler.

“Which one of you would like to explain this?” Megatron asked gruffly, holding up the chip he found.

“It looks like a data chip,” Starscream sneered.  “Going senile, glorious leader?”

Skywarp snickered but stopped when the glare turned on him.

“I am aware _what_ it is.  I want to know how it ended up in my pet’s datapad in my _locked_ office.  Would you like to answer that, _Skywarp_?”

The purple Seeker’s wings drooped as he took a cautious step backward.  “I wouldn’t know, my lord,” he muttered.  This had to be the angriest they’d seen him since the war ended.

Well, except Starscream.  He knew that terror from when he’d found Rodimus snooping around in the library.

Unsatisfied, Megatron turned his gaze on Thundercracker.  The blue Seeker swallowed a lump forming in his throat components.  “Then how would _you_ like to explain how someone would get their servos on Shockwave’s notes, Thundercracker?”

Thundercracker looked from Megatron to Starscream.  The Seeker captain shook his helm curtly, giving him a warning look.  When he returned his nervous gaze to their tyrant ruler, the glare had darkened dangerously on him.  After a moment he finally blurted out, “It was Starscream’s idea!”

“Thundercracker, you _rat_!” Starscream shrieked, looking murderously at the blue Seeker.

“Starscream, you will be _silent_!” Megatron commanded again, turning on him in an instant.

The red and white Seeker captain shut his mouth and took a step back.

Satisfied, Megatron turned back to Thundercracker.  “What was the purpose of all of this?” he demanded.

“Starscream thought that if we planted Shockwave’s notes for the Spacebridge project in your pet’s datapad, then he’d read it when he next turned it on,” Thundercracker confessed.  “He’d then realize your plans and find a way to inform the Autobots.  He had me get into Shockwave’s lab while he wasn’t there since I memorized the code to the door a while back.  I’m… I’m just good at memorizing things like that.  When I got his notes, Starscream ordered Skywarp to teleport into your office and plant it.”

Megatron already suspected all of this, but he was at least impressed that Thundercracker was willing to admit to all of it.  For being as reluctant as he was at times, he showed an admirable amount of loyalty.  That was more than he could say for _some_ mechs.

“I didn’t wanna do it!” Skywarp blurted out.  “I knew you’d kill us when you found out!”

“And why did you still go through it, then?” Megatron asked him dangerously.

Skywarp looked away from him uncomfortably.  “You ask that like you’ve never argued with Screamer before,” he muttered sheepishly.

“Yes, let’s talk about you now, Starscream,” Megatron growled, turning to their commander.  He approached, leaning over the Seeker, who tried to look brave.  It didn’t last long.  “Do you really think you can overthrow me by igniting the war before I’m ready?”

“The thought may have crossed my mind…” Starscream admitted lightly, shrinking away from the looming figure of the tyrant.

Megatron snarled and grabbed Starscream by the wing, squeezing.  A screech escaped the red and white Seeker as he tried not to move.  In the terrified crimson optics before him, though, the silver tyrant saw the cowering, afraid form of Rodimus in the library.  He heard the echoes of the promise he’d given him.  That he would try to control his temper.  No more maiming.

Starscream looked up at him in confusion and suspicion as he was released instead of being tortured further.  Skywarp and Thundercracker, who both had backed away in fear, held the air in their vents for whatever came next.

Megatron vented in deeply before commanding, “ _Go._   All three of you.  You are suspended from duty until further notice.  If I see you even _near_ the palace before then, I will have you all incarcerated.  Get your things from your rooms and get out of here.”

“What?!” Starscream sounded like he would rather have had his wing ripped off again than be exiled from the palace, no matter how temporarily.  “You… but I’m your Second in Command!”

“No, you are not!” Megatron snapped at him, the patience he was trying to hold onto being tested.  “As of now, you are a Decepticon citizen, nothing more!  Soundwave will take over your duties until I’ve decided you can return!”

“And… and then I can resume them…?” Starscream persisted.  It actually looked… pitiful.  He was so desperate to hang onto the position he’d worked so hard to get to.  The one with no one above him but his former master.

Megatron stared at him, and for a moment he didn’t see the treacherous Second in Command.  Starscream looked like he did all those millennia ago when he was sentenced to being cared for as a pet by the tyrant.  When for a few centuries he abandoned his ambitions in favor of being spoiled with luxury.

Megatron had, at the time, actually been hopeful that the attention and care he’d given Starscream as his beautiful pet would change his mind permanently.  That he would remain by his side as someone loyal, as Soundwave had.  For the first few decades, it seemed that way.  Starscream had been sweet and obedient even after his tenure as a pet was over.  It didn’t last, however.  Over time he returned to being that bitter, back-stabbing mech that only responded to a sharp slap rather than a gentle pet.

“We shall discuss it when the time comes,” Megatron said more gently.

Starscream didn’t argue, which was a surprise.  He instead bowed his helm, wings dipping dejectedly with it.  “Very well…” he whispered.  “If you’ll excuse me then, my lord.”

Skywarp and Thundercracker watched, dumbfounded.  They were probably just as shocked as Megatron should have been that Starscream had simply relented.  No screaming, no arguing, not even a threat.  Simply… left.

“I _said_ all three of you!” Megatron snapped at them.

The two Seekers jumped, quickly following their captain.

Megatron waited for them to be gone before ex-venting.  He covered his face with a hand and rubbed it tiredly.  He turned and left as well, heading for Shockwave’s lab.  He needed to have a talk with him about his security.  Then Thrust and his trine, who would have to take over as the primary Seeker team.  And, of course, Soundwave to formally promote him to Second in Command, even if temporarily.

Leave it to Starscream to set out to dethrone him and instead give Megatron more work.

 

\---

 

Rodimus had found relief from any boredom he may have built up in the second-floor training room.  It wasn’t anywhere near as big as either the training floor or training yard on the first floor, but it was well facilitated.  When he’d entered, he hadn’t been alone.  Onslaught and his team had been training.  Well, that was to say that Onslaught was instructing a spar between Brawl and Vortex.  Blast Off was leaning against the wall, watching.  Swindle sat on the side of the mat, going over a datapad intently.  Every once in a while he’d make a change on it, but that was about the only movement out of him.

Rodimus hadn’t really interacted with the Combaticons, as they called themselves, much.  Not that he’d talked to really _anyone_ in the Decepticons at length since he became a pet.  Even though they didn’t seem to care that he was property, they still seemed to deem him underneath them.  One of the Constructicons had even patted him on the helm and left when Rodimus tried to ask him a question.  Mid-sentence.  It was extremely rude.

“No, no, Brawl!” Onslaught snapped as the hulking Decepticon warrior was knocked onto his back.  That was actually quite impressive of a feat for someone so much smaller than his opponent.  “Vortex is _faster_ than you!  That’s how he’s getting the advantage!  Use his speed against him!”

Brawl grunted in annoyance as he sat up, punching the ground.  “He’s cheating!  I know he is!”

“Aw, come on!” Vortex rolled his optics behind his visor.  “That’s the lamest excuse you could’ve come up with.  I’m just better than you.  Cause unlike you I actually _think_ in a fight!”

Onslaught ignored the angry growl that escaped the tank, striking a hand through the air.  “Again!  Get in your positions and try again!  We’re not leaving here until you’ve learned, Brawl!”

“Oh, great,” Swindle scoffed from his seat, looking behind himself at them in annoyance.  “If that’s the case we’re going to be here _forever_.”

Onslaught glared at him but didn’t rise to the bait.  Instead, he turned back to the two mechs getting into their positions on the training mat.

Rodimus had thought it was funny, at least, laughing a bit as he walked around the spar.  He sat next to the con artist, though he was facing the match.  He watched as Vortex slid under Brawl as the much larger mech grabbed for him, jumping on his back and digging his servos into the seams he found there.  He leaned back while kicking the back of Brawl’s knee-joints, sliding back under him and out of the way as Brawl lost his balance and toppled backward again.

“Use his momentum against him, you idiot…” Swindle muttered under his vents as he typed at his datapad.  He wasn’t even looking at the sparring pair, making it impressive that he knew exactly what Brawl was doing wrong.

“You do know he can’t hear you if you say it that low, right?” Rodimus teased.

“Tell that to Onslaught,” the conmech said, glancing at him.  “He insists on Brawl learning it himself.  Like that isn’t a fragging exercise in futility.”

Rodimus laughed again, watching Onslaught yell at Brawl for messing up again.  Vortex looked like he was having a great time, though, bouncing from one pede to the other.  He then looked to Swindle’s datapad.  “What’re you doing?” he asked conversationally.

Swindle looked at him up and down a moment, as if sizing him up.  Rodimus expected him to brush him off like the others always did.  Instead, though, he surprised Rodimus by turning it towards him.  “Writing a merchandise manifest.  All completely legal, I swear on the name of Primus,” the salesman added quickly when Rodimus raised an optic ridge.  Apparently, he wasn’t surprised at all that his reputation preceded him even in Autobot territory.  “This entire system of justice, the Pet System, is a _very_ lucrative business.  I can get my hands on some really rare and expensive stuff for those who are particularly doting on their pets.”

“There’s really nothing you won’t exploit for shanix, is there?” Rodimus asked.  He didn’t say it as an accusation.  Not even an ounce of bitterness could be found.  He was instead amused.  Some ‘bots just couldn’t help their programming.

“Hey, where do you think Lord Megatron got that pretty nametag of yours?” Swindle asked, pointing at the pet’s neck.

Rodimus’s optics widened as his servos went to the accessory.  “You’re the one who sold him this?” he said.

“For a pretty shanix,” Swindle winked at him.  “Special made and special delivered.  If everyone could afford a pet tag, every pet would be walking around with one.  Especially with the special feature that little trinket has.”

“Special feature?” Rodimus asked in confusion.

“What, Megatron didn’t tell you?” Swindle asked in disbelief.

“We’ve been… ah… _distracted_ since he gave it to me,” the pet muttered, faceplate filling with color.

“I see,” the yellow and purple mech chuckled.  “Okay, let me see it.”  He held a hand out.

Rodimus looked from his faceplate to the hand, and back.  “Uh… I don’t think Master would want me to take it off,” he said cautiously.  It didn’t help that Swindle was the kind of mech he wouldn’t put past taking the tag and running.

“Look, I’m just going to show you the feature we had installed in it,” Swindle assured him.  “Then I’ll put it right back on you.”

Rodimus stared at him a moment more before ex-venting.  He reached up to the tag and detached it, handing it to the conmech.  Unlike his collar, the tag could be removed and placed back on by anyone.  It was simply something more intimate to have Megatron do it.

“Alright, so on the front we have your name in these pretty letters, right?” Swindle said, holding the tag up with its front side facing Rodimus.  “However, when you turn it around, there a little something special.”  He did so, showing the backside.  There was a little button back there.  “If ever you’re in trouble and no one is the wiser, all you need to do it press this button.  It sends a signal directly to Lord Megatron.  He can then dispatch whoever he needs to rescue you.  Or do it himself.  Whatever tickles his fancy at the time.”

“Master had this made like that for me?” Rodimus asked, spark fluttering.

“Well, yeah,” Swindle answered, reaching over and reattaching the tag.  “He’s been getting a lot of stuff from me for you.  He’s my number one customer right now.”

Rodimus went silent, thinking that over.  He knew Megatron was buying him a lot of gifts, but he had no idea the lengths he was going to for them.  Feeling like he owed Swindle for everything he’d been doing for them.  So he turned around as Brawl and Vortex engaged again.  Before Vortex could strike this time, Rodimus yelled, “Momentum, genius!  He flies further if you give him a hand!”

Brawl glanced at him before realization dawned in his visor.  Vortex had at that point been striking out, moving quickly towards him.  Brawl side-stepped him and lifted a huge pede, slamming it into his back.  Vortex screeched as he was launched across the room, past the mat and rolling across the solid floor.  He landed against the far wall upside down, sliding down until he was lying on his back with his legs on the wall.

There was a silence until Brawl, Swindle, and Rodimus all broke into raucous laughter.  Blast Off was chuckling where he’d been silently watching.  After a moment even Vortex joined in the laughing, righting himself.

It continued until Onslaught marched over to where Rodimus sat, looming over him with his arms crossed over his chestplate.  “Brawl was supposed to figure that out on his own!  How dare you interrupt our training session?!” he barked.

Rodimus didn’t even back down.  He simply shrugged.  “Hey, he got it, didn’t he?  Sometimes people need a little push in the right direction.  Or in this case, I guess a whole kick in one.”

“You think this is funny?” Onslaught asked dangerously.  “This isn’t a game!”

Rodimus stood up, putting his hands on his hips and grinning up at him.  “The war is over if you haven’t noticed,” he pointed out.  “No point in training sessions this intense.  Maybe you should lighten up a bit.  People learn a lot faster when they’re having fun.”

Onslaught’s visor narrowed.  “You need to back down, _pet_.”

“Make me.”

The Combaticon commander growled and grabbed Rodimus by the shoulder, digging his servos into his plating.  The red and orange pet finally flinched, spoiler lowering a bit in surprise.  He hadn’t expected Onslaught to actually follow through.

Luckily, he was stopped when Blast Off appeared, pushing his larger leader away from the pet.  “Onslaught, are you crazy?!” he snapped.  “You can’t put your servos on Megatron’s pet!  You’re going to get killed that way!”

“Pets shouldn’t be exempt from punishment for being arrogant, no matter whose pet they are!” Onslaught shouted, pushing forward in spite knowing better.  Blast Off’s pedes slid across the mat as the much stronger Combaticon managed to move him.

Rodimus backed away, optics wide.  So far, being Megatron’s pet had made him immune to all kinds of trouble with the Decepticons.  He hadn’t met anyone willing to ignore that for the sake of their own ego until now.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Brawl intervened this time, grabbing Onslaught by the shoulders from behind.  “Blast Off’s right.  Not even Vortex is nuts enough to piss off the big boss.”

“Hey!” Vortex huffed, approaching from where he’d been knocked over.  One of his rotors was bent, but he didn’t seem to notice.  After a moment he admitted, “I mean, he’s not wrong.  To be fair, Brawl isn’t stupid enough to do it, either.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Brawl hissed at him.

“Maybe we should all just walk away before something we’ll all regret happens,” Swindle suggested, putting himself surprisingly between Rodimus and Onslaught.  He raised his hands before him as if he could actually stop Onslaught if he was angry enough to break through Brawl and Blast Off’s hold.

Onslaught looked from Swindle to Blast Off, who was giving him a warning look.  He then grunted in frustration but stopped.  “Fine.  Come on, Combaticons.  Let’s let the filthy pet think on how bad of an idea it was to challenge me.”  He then turned, leaving without another word.

Blast Off ex-vented, shaking his helm.  He patted Brawl on the arm as he followed their leader.

Brawl watched him for a moment before turning back to Rodimus.  He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before awkwardly saying, “Uh… thanks for cluing me in, I guess.  I mean, I could’a figured it out eventually.  But that was a lot faster.”  He then left as well, Vortex right behind him.

Swindle looked from them to Rodimus, slapping him on the shoulder.  “Hey, I know you’ve got a Get Out of Jail Free Card thanks to who your master is, but… maybe try to pick your fights a little more wisely?  Not everyone around here feels the fear of Primus.”  He then waved him goodbye as he quickly ran after his team.

Rodimus stood a moment, staring at the door even after they were gone.  He put a hand on his tag and clenched the other into a fist.

What was wrong with him?  Since when did he back down in the face of _one_ Decepticon?

Hot Rod had been a rebel.  He fought Decepticons to keep them out of his home.  He’d never backed down, not in the face of _anybody_.

Rodimus was supposed to be an upgrade.  He’d already proven he was faster.  Agiler.  Who wanted to bet he hit harder now, too?

The red and orange Autobot was already starting to become too dependent on his master.  How did that happen in such a short time?

Rodimus looked up to a large training bag that was hanging from the ceiling, suspended by another chain on the floor.  He huffed and stared at it until it turned into Onslaught.  He shouldn’t be afraid of the Combaticon leader.

He shouldn’t be afraid of _anyone_.

It was time Rodimus went back to reminding himself of that.

 

\---

 

Megatron made his way down the hall after having visited Soundwave.  The now temporary Second in Command was acting a bit odd, though few besides Megatron and the Cassetticons would ever be able to tell.  He also informed Ravage that his mission was changing temporarily.  With Starscream and his ilk not staying in the palace, he had no justification for keeping such a close eye on them.  So instead, Ravage was to keep one on Shockwave’s lab to make sure nothing like what had happened that mega-cycle would again.

The ruler then was informed while in there that Rodimus was currently in the second-floor training room.  He wouldn’t question how Soundwave knew that, as Soundwave usually knew the goings on in the palace better than even he did.

When Megatron reached the training room, he could hear grunting coming from inside.  He opened the door to find Rodimus punching swiftly at one of the training bags, a look of pure concentration on his faceplate.  The ruler was only mildly surprised, as Rodimus was never the kind to sit still unless he asked him to.  He was more shocked that the speedster had taken this long to use the training room to his advantage and let out his pent-up energy.

The gladiator in him couldn’t help but notice the flaws in Rodimus’s stance and swing, though.  He moved forward, knowing his pet would know he was there.  The much larger silver mech wasn’t trying to be stealthy.  The door slid closed behind him, and Megatron stepped up behind Rodimus, who went still at his master’s close proximity.

“You move fluidly, my pet,” Megatron complimented, running his servos down Rodimus’s arms and to his wrists.  He felt the younger mech heat at the compliment and touch, but that wasn’t what he was here for.  Instead, he took his wrists and pulled them up and closer to Rodimus’s body.  “Keep your stance tighter, though.  In a fight, your opponent would have a clear shot of your body.  When you punch, lead with your left fist.  Your right one punches harder, so you’ll want that to be the follow-up.”

“Yes, Master,” Rodimus answered automatically, though his voice didn’t drip with the same affection it usually did.  He was too focused on his task to concentrate on intimacy.

Megatron was proud of this.  As much as he loved his obedient pet, he also wanted to not have to worry about him on his own.  Rodimus was a natural fighter; he’d proven that more than once.  But he needed to hone that if he was to protect himself, especially in Decepticon territory.  “Move your right leg forward just a bit,” he instructed, nudging the leg with his own.  “Good, you’re looking more like a fighter now.  Show me that you are.”

Rodimus nodded as Megatron backed away, moving to the side to watch.  He vented in sharply and jabbed out, left first, then right.  As Megatron said, the second punch had more impact to it, and the bag jerked to the left as it was hit.

“Again,” Megatron said.

Rodimus did as he was told.  Left, right.

“Again.”

Left, right.

“Faster.  Again.”

This time a swifter transition between the two.  Left, quickly to the right.

“Again, Rodimus!  Again!  _Again!_ ”

Each time, without hesitation, Rodimus lashed, punched, and jabbed.  The focused look never left his faceplate.  This was something that was important to him.

Megatron was proud of his pet.

“Now, take a step back,” Megatron ordered, not touching him this time.  He wanted to see Rodimus do this on his own.  He was sure the red and orange mech wanted the same.

Rodimus didn’t even look at him, taking a step backward without breaking his stance.

“When you’re in a fight, your opponent won’t be standing still.  You know this; you are not inexperienced in battle.  However, 50,000 meta-cycles of peace have dulled your skills.  Would you agree?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good, you are not arrogant.  Step towards your opponent, left with the first punch, right with the second, then a quick dodge back to your starting position.  Go.”

Rodimus did as he was told, though it was sloppy.  Forward with the left punch, the right punch, and then hopping backward.  He vented in slowly.  He knew he messed up.  Again, that was good.  It meant he wanted to do this right.

“Again.”

They repeated the process.  Again.  And again.  Until Rodimus wasn’t stumbling on his steps anymore.  Until his punches were flowing with the movement, not after.

“Good.  Now, this time I want you to dodge right before you move in, then dodge back left after.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Go.”

This went on for two cycles before they knew it, Megatron barking new ways to improve this one skill every few kliks.  Rodimus never stopped.  Never asked to be given a break.

Finally, Megatron stepped forward.  He put a hand on Rodimus’s left arm and lowered it.  “That’s enough for now.  Relax, my pet,” he said gently.

Rodimus vented inwards and then out slowly, lowering his arms and slumping.  He vented heavily from exertion, putting his hands on his knees and simply standing there for a moment.  He finally looked up at his master.  “Wow, I didn’t know you were a coach, too.  Anything you’re not?” he teased.

“I can tell you at least one thing I’m not,” Megatron assured him, chuckling.  He pulled Rodimus to straighten up, pulling him close and stroking the side of his faceplate affectionately.  “Disappointed.  You surprise me at every turn, Rodimus.  You learned far quicker than I was expecting.  You make me proud.”

Rodimus’s faceplate flushed as a smile broke out across it.  He laughed sheepishly, looking at the ground.  Definitely a sudden change from the focused, serious boxer that had just been darting around the training bag.  “I’m just trying to sharpen skills I already had,” he said modestly.  “I fought Decepticons for two million meta-cycles.  I wouldn’t have survived if I didn’t know what I was doing.  But peace hasn’t… it hasn’t been easy for me, you know?  I thought it would be the best thing in the world.  It’s what we all wanted, right?  I didn’t realize that it would come with the consequence of me… not knowing what to do with it.”

“The fact that you can admit that is far more mature than I’ve seen others treat you, even yourself,” Megatron replied.  “Perhaps… I will be reopening the arena soon.  Would you like to come with me to see the matches?  It will give you something to do.”

Rodimus made a face at him, pushing out of his arms.  He stretched his aching chassis, leaning backward while still holding his balance.  He looked extremely appealing when the lines of his frame were curved in such a way.  Perhaps they should test his flexibility some time.  “Energon sport?  No way.  I thought you started the revolution ‘cause you hated that kind of stuff.  Were against people being forced to bludgeon each other to death.”

Megatron smiled at him.  Of course his programming would be against such barbaric displays.  “I can assure you that no one is forced to be in that arena that doesn’t want to be.  If they’re killed, then it’s something they signed up for.”

Rodimus straightened himself again, crossing his arms and huffing.  He lightened up just a bit but still said, “No.  It’s not my kind of game.”

“That’s alright,” Megatron assured him.  “Wherever you wish me to take you, I will.  I don’t want you to feel cooped up in here.”  He thought a moment and then suggested, “I must deliver some files to an Autobot medic named Ratchet after I contact him.  Would you like to come with me?  He has a pet you would likely enjoy meeting.”

Rodimus’s optics widened.  “Ratchet has a pet?  But… he’s totally against this entire system.  He was one of the people who campaigned against it.”

“It’s a special circumstance,” Megatron explained, not knowing how to put it.  How could he tell his precious pet that there was someone out there who abused their own so badly?  That the very system Megatron helped implement and support was responsible?  “Would you like to come or not?”

Rodimus thought about it for a moment then nodded.  “Sure.  I haven’t really met any other pets.  It would be nice to see someone else who wears one of these.”  He put a hand on his collar, servos brushing the tag.

That reminded Megatron, he never told Rodimus about the special feature it had.  “Rodimus, about that tag…” he began.

Rodimus cut him off.  “I know, Master.  There’s a button to call you if I’m in trouble,” he said, looking at the floor.  He looked oddly… morose about it.

“How did you know?” the ruler asked in surprise.

“Swindle was in here with the Combaticons.  I talked to him, and he told me.”

Megatron looked his pet over for a moment before asking, “Why do you seem upset with it?”

Rodimus looked back up at him, worrying his bottom lip.  “I’m not upset, I promise.  I just… I don’t want to need it.  That’s why I was training when you came in.  I’m not helpless, and I don’t want to be.  I want this button to be the absolute last resort.”

His determination surprised Megatron then made him smile again.  He reached out and took Rodimus into his arms again.  He held the young pet against himself, running his hand soothingly down his backstrut and feeling him relax.  “If you wish not to need that button then we will need to spend much more time in here.  I will teach you to fight again personally.  Even if you don’t wish me to protect you, I still want to be the reason you’re safe.”

Rodimus finally smiled again, dimming his optics as he leaned his helm against Megatron’s chestplate.  He vented deeply, this time in contentment.

Megatron felt the same, but in the back of it burned anger.

Starscream came very close to taking this away from him.

He wouldn’t let something like that happen again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus and Megatron make a visit to Ratchet and Drift. Afterwards, they find themselves once again getting heated in the transport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I love them fragging in the transport so much.
> 
> Also, this chapter is going to run parallel to Masters and Pets - Deadlock/Drift chapter 2 when I get it up.

Megatron watched his pet in amusement as they drove across the border into Autobot territory once again.  Rodimus was using the reflective glass on the two-way partition between them and their driver to look over himself.  He had a polishing cloth in the other hand, making sure there wasn’t a single sign of smudging anywhere on himself.

“If you keep that up you’ll polish your paint right off, my dear pet,” the ruler finally teased.

Rodimus gave him a look before smiling wide.  “I can’t help it!  I want to look my absolute best when we see Ratchet.  He’s so against the Pet System that I want him to know that I’m doing great.”

“I know,” Megatron reached over and stroked a servo down Rodimus’s white faceplate, the red and orange mech shuttering his optics and venting softly at the feeling.  “You don’t have to work at looking beautiful, though.  You already are.”

Rodimus’s spoiler fluttered at the compliment, and he dropped the rag, scooting over and snuggling into his master’s side.  “Did you spoil Starscream and Soundwave with this many compliments, Master?  Or am I just _that_ special?” he asked.

“Hmm, that is a loaded question if I ever heard one,” Megatron replied, chuckling.  “The truth is yes, I did compliment them just as much.  But I have never said anything to any of you three that you haven’t deserved.  I only ever give you the truth.”

“Speaking of Screamer, I haven’t seen him in a while.  Is he hiding from us or something?” Rodimus asked.

Megatron hesitated a moment.  It had been three mega-cycles since the incident.  “Starscream… did something I cannot forgive him for.  He had to be punished.”  When his pet looked up sharply, he assured him, “I did not harm him, I promise.  I told you I would restrain myself.  I instead suspended him from his duties, along with his Trine Brothers.  Until I feel he has learned his lesson, he is a Decepticon citizen, no more and no less.  Soundwave has taken on his duties.”

“Ooh, that’s why Soundwave’s been so busy lately,” Rodimus nodded in response.  “I went to visit him, but he kept telling me he was too busy to ‘indulge me.’  I thought I made him uncomfortable when I had a drink in his office.”

“Oh?  Over what?”

“Sorry, Master, but that’s a secret.  I’ll only tell you if you order me to,” Rodimus said cheekily.

“Hmm, well, I don’t want to intrude on the privacy of my favorites,” Megatron smirked.

“Why _did_ you send me to his office to drink?  You have reserves in your chambers,” Rodimus suddenly asked.

“Truthfully?  I wanted Soundwave to be around you more,” Megatron confessed.  “You’re going to be a constant in the palace for a long time, and there’s no one I trust more than him.  So if there’s anything you want or need and I’m not around, I want you to feel comfortable going to him.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Rodimus smiled, watching the scenery outside go by absently.  “I like Soundwave.  He’s… strange, but nice.”

The rest of the trip was spent in idle conversation until they pulled up to a modest yet nice house.  It definitely looked like the kind of place Ratchet would live.  Nothing fancy, but functional.  Megatron led Rodimus up by his leash, holding the two boxes of casefiles and evidence under his other arm.  His approach hadn’t been inconspicuous, as neighbors were watching through windows or poking their helms out of their doors.  A few brave ones actually left their homes to gawk.

Megatron ignored them, however, and rang the bell.  A light chime sounded throughout the house, and a few moments later the door opened.  Standing before them was an older medic in reds and whites, looking between the two.  “Megatron,” he greeted as shortly as he had over their call not long ago.  “Come in, please.  The neighbors don’t need a longer show than necessary.”

“Thank you,” Megatron nodded, walking in with Rodimus following.  He placed the boxes on the floor before turning to his pet, disconnecting the leash and hanging it on a hook next to the door.  There was a second leash there, obviously for Drift.  “And thank you for allowing me to drop these off personally.  Rodimus has been excited to see both you and Drift.”

“I see,” Ratchet muttered, glancing back over at Rodimus and giving him a sweep with his optics.  He was likely using his experience and knowledge of medical science to determine if Rodimus was being mistreated in any way.  Megatron wasn’t offended.  He didn’t blame the medic for not trusting him.

“I haven’t met too many pets since becoming one,” Rodimus explained cheerfully.  “I just thought-”

“Drift is _not_ my pet,” Ratchet snapped, causing Rodimus to shut his mouth and flinch.  He looked to Megatron, who shrugged.  At the sudden discomfort he caused, Ratchet apologized.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that,” he exvented.  “We don’t refer to him as a pet, and I don’t treat him like one.  He’s more of a… guest.  Until we can get this entire thing with Turmoil sorted out.”

“Turmoil?” Rodimus asked, looking back to Megatron again.

“The files,” Megatron simply replied.

“You haven’t told him why you’re here?” Ratchet asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t think Drift would appreciate it if I went around telling his story to everyone,” the ruler answered challengingly.  “Or do you think it is my business to tell people what he’s been through without his input?”

“No, it’s not.  I would have thought you’d at least… never mind,” Ratchet shook his helm, picking up one of the boxes.  “Follow me.  I’ll take you to Drift, who will entertain Rodimus while you’re here.  I want to talk to you alone, Megatron.”

“Very well,” Megatron nodded, picking up the other one.  He nodded after the walking medic.  “Come, my pet.”

Rodimus followed, looking between the two in confusion.  He didn’t say anything, though, obviously reluctant after Ratchet had snapped at him.  Megatron didn’t reprimand him for not standing up to the medic as he usually would, however.  Ratchet may have been an Autobot, but Megatron truly respected him if nothing else.

They stopped at a living area where Megatron recognized Drift.  Despite the fact that he was now painted in gleaming whites, reds, and golds, he’d know the mech who stood before him so many meta-cycles ago anywhere.  He could still hear Deadlock’s pleading that he had been framed, that he hadn’t done anything wrong.  Then the deafening silence the next time he’d seen him when they found out the abuse Turmoil had put him through, as the pet had refused to even look at anyone while sitting on the repair berth.

The mech was now sitting peacefully in the middle of the room, legs crossed, optics shuttered.  He was deep in peaceful meditation.  Megatron almost told Ratchet not to disturb it.

“Drift,” Ratchet said, getting the pet’s attention.

Drift onlined his optics, looking up to his audience.  “Oh, sorry,” he said, quickly standing up.  “I guess I was a little deeper in my meditation than I thought I was.”  He bowed low.  “Welcome.”

Ratchet rolled his optics but stayed silent.  Megatron was going to reply, but Rodimus had already moved forward.  They watched him walk over in front of the still-bowing mech and kneel down until his face was under Drift’s.  The white and red pet looked at the red and orange one in surprise, though he didn’t straighten.  “Hey,” Rodimus grinned.  “I’m Rodimus.  I’ll take it you’re Drift, then.”

“Yeah, I…” Drift trailed off, finally straightening, color rising to his faceplate a bit.  “I mean, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Rodimus agreed, standing back up again.  His spoiler fluttered again, obviously happy just meeting the other mech.

Drift stared at him a moment before something Megatron hadn’t seen since he was Deadlock – no, since he became a pet – happened.  The white and red mech smiled.  Something about meeting Rodimus was making him finally relax.

“Alright, I’m leaving Rodimus in your care, Drift,” Ratchet announced, looking as surprised by this as Megatron was.  “If he needs help with anything, you’re in charge.  Got it?”

“Yeah, no problem, Ratchet,” Drift answered, though he wasn’t looking at him.  He was now thoroughly distracted by the red and orange mech before him.

“Be good, Rodimus,” Megatron added, turning to follow Ratchet as he started down towards his office.

“Yes, Master,” Rodimus replied, at least turning to look at him.

Megatron nodded his approval and followed the medic.  Once they were in the office, Ratchet closed the door and placed his box on the desk there.  Megatron followed suit.

“It seems Rodimus’s infectious personality has claimed another victim,” Megatron smirked as he reached into the box and began pulling out datapads.

“I admit, I wasn’t expecting that,” Ratchet agreed.  “Though I’d appreciate it if Rodimus didn’t call you ‘Master’ around Drift.  It may trigger some unpleasant memories for him.”

“I understand, but I’m afraid Rodimus is simply trained that way,” the ruler replied.  “You will have to forgive him.”

“I don’t blame _him_ ,” Ratchet said bitterly.  “As you just said, he was _trained_ that way.  I still can’t believe I let you guilt me into letting you bring your pet here.  You know how I feel about the entire thing.”

“You can’t just avoid it now that you’re caring for one,” Megatron pointed out.  “No matter what you call him, he is still legally your pet.  I am glad to see him doing well under you, however.”

“I don’t know why you pretend to care, _Megatron_ ,” Ratchet snipped.  “I had to coerce you into even caring enough to give me access to these files.  Why do you care whether or not he’s happy?  He’s just property to you, right?”

“I want you to understand one thing, Ratchet,” Megatron growled at him.  “Just because I consider them pets, it doesn’t mean I don’t consider them people.  There’s a reason we have laws in place that take pets away from mechs like Turmoil.”

“If you really considered them people, you wouldn’t be calling them ‘pets’ in the first place.  And you wouldn’t have put a system in place that has the potential to _put_ them in the position Drift was pulled from.  Not to mention that Turmoil is apparently now running around free, taking your orders again.”

“He served his time,” Megatron simply said.

“None as a pet, though.  I guess _karmic_ punishment was too much to ask for.”

Megatron opened his mouth, but then closed it and exvented, pinching the bridge of his olfactory sensor.  “I did not come here to argue politics with you, Ratchet.  I came to deliver these files and allow Rodimus some time out of the palace to interact with another pet.  There was something you wanted to talk to me about, however.  What was it?”

Ratchet exvented as well, nodding.  “Right.  I wanted to ask you personally what you remember about the case.  I know you’ve already been asked this, but if there’s _anything_ you can remember that can clear his name…”  After a moment Ratchet shook his helm.  “I don’t know why I’m bothering.  You probably still believe he’s guilty.”

“If I thought that, I wouldn’t have brought this to you,” Megatron huffed.  At the surprised look he was given, the ruler elaborated.  “I’ve been thinking about it, and… I think you’re right.  The case seems too perfect.  That’s the problem with trying to disprove it, though.  I’ve been spending the last few mega-cycles going through every piece of evidence in this case.  I can’t find a single hole in any of it.”

Ratchet watched him in disbelief before seeming to determine that Megatron was telling the truth.  “If you think he’s innocent, can’t you simply overrule it?” he asked.  He then answered himself bitterly.  “No, of course you can’t.  Without evidence that would look like favoritism at best, incompetence at worst.  What changed your mind, though?”

Megatron stood for a moment, wondering how to answer that.  He decided to simply say it as truthfully as it was.  “Rodimus.  You may not believe this, but I care for every one of my pets.  I look to Rodimus, to how beautiful he and his spark both are.  And I know there would be those who would take advantage of that, and it angers me.  As I have cared for and nurtured him, I have only seen him shine brighter.  If he was given to someone like Turmoil, they would extinguish that flame.”

“I don’t really understand,” Ratchet admitted, looking confused.  “Rodimus and Drift are completely different.”

“Not completely,” the silver ruler insisted.  “They are victims of their circumstances.  I remind you that I started my revolution so that those who weren’t given a chance to live up to their true potential _could_.  Now that we have made peace, those who I have fought for are being thrown to the wayside on both sides again.  Rodimus came to me ill cared for.  Lacking his necessary upgrades.  Illiterate.  I have told Optimus Prime this, and all I have received in response are excuses.  You may condemn my justice system, but I have given Rodimus better care under it than he ever received as a citizen.  I hope that you prove Drift’s case wrong and give him his rightful freedom.  But I will not apologize for the Pet System.  It has helped more than it has hurt.”

Ratchet stared at him a moment.  He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again.  “I’m not even going to bother.  No matter what I say, I can tell nothing will sway you otherwise.  Are you sure there’s nothing you can tell me that will help, though?”

“I’m sorry.  All I remember about the case is in those casefiles.  I’m afraid I must admit that I may have been willfully ignorant of anything that made the case suspicious.”

“Of course you were,” Ratchet muttered.  “Alright, that was all I really needed to know.”  After a moment, he reset his vocals.  “I know you probably want to give Rodimus more time to get to know Drift, but…”

“You wish the Ruler of the Decepticons out of your home before the neighbors start spreading rumors?” Megatron guessed dryly.

“There wasn’t a polite way to say it, so yes,” Ratchet admitted.

“I understand.  I shall pick up my pet and leave, then,” Megatron said.  “He will have to be satisfied with the little time we spent.  Perhaps I can convince him to want to do something else while we’re out.  I get worried about how much time he spends inside the palace.”

Ratchet nodded, obviously not knowing how to reply to that.  He instead gestured to the door and led Megatron back to the living area.

When they saw it, they both stopped.  Rodimus was gripping a sword before him, Drift pressed against him from behind as he guided his hold.  “The best angle against a larger enemy is here,” he instructed, turning Rodimus’s hands.  He stopped when they were at a diagonal angle.  “A swift blow like this is harder for them to block.”

Megatron reset his vocals, getting both of their attention.

“Master!” Rodimus exclaimed, picking up the sheath and sliding the sword into it.  He handed it to Drift with a, “Thanks for the lesson.  We should continue next time.”  There was a moment of hesitation before he looked back to the ruler.  “There… _will_ be a next time, right?”

“If Drift would like it,” Megatron answered, gesturing to the white and red pet who had fallen silent.

When Rodimus turned his gaze back to him, Drift shook his helm a moment and answered, “Oh!  Yes, I would love for you to come back.  You’re… I mean, it’s Ratchet’s house, so…”

Looking a little bit put off that this answer was being flung from one person to another, Rodimus looked at the medic.  Ratchet looked around at the three, irritated at being put on the spot like that.  “Well, after all of that I can’t really say _no_ , can I?” he huffed.

Rodimus’s faceplate broke into a smile, jumping in place for a moment.  “Yes!  Alright, I’ll call you.  Or you can call me.  I dunno, Master and Ratchet have each other’s number so someone will call someone,” he rambled on excitedly.

Drift smiled back again, reaching out and taking Rodimus’s hand for a moment.  “I look forward to it, Rodimus.”

Megatron looked at the way Drift looked at the other pet, Rodimus’s bright smile in return.  His spark warmed a bit.  He was suddenly very glad he brought him here.  Rodimus and Drift seemed almost… destined to meet each other like this.  They were fast friends and looked like they could become even closer as time passed.

They gathered at the door as the Decepticon ruler and his pet prepared to leave.  Rodimus turned to Drift, then Ratchet.  “Thanks for letting me come over.  This wasn’t long, but… it was fun!  I really do hope we can come back.  I know… I mean, I understand if Drift doesn’t want to come to the palace.”

Ratchet and Drift looked surprised, then at each other.  A question seemed to go unspoken between them before Drift shook his helm shortly.  They then looked back to the pet.  “You’re welcome whenever you want, Rodimus,” Ratchet finally said.  He then looked at Megatron.  “Though less conspicuous transport here would be appreciated.”

Megatron bowed lightly, smiling slightly.  “I will see what I can do.”  He then attached the leash to Rodimus’s collar and led him to the transport.  The neighbors were indeed out again, some of them looking like they’d gotten as close to the transport as they’d dared in the process.

As the transport took off, Rodimus and Megatron watched through the window as Ratchet and Drift disappeared behind their closing door.  “You had a good time then, pet?” Megatron asked Rodimus.  The red and orange mech was still leaning over his lap, leaning on the door to watch the scenery once again.  The ruler stroked his backstrut absently as he watched his pet.

“A great time, Master,” Rodimus smiled, folding his arms on the door and laying his chin on them.  Each pet down his backstrut caused his hips to rise slightly into the touch.  “Drift is super fun.  He was teaching me how to use his swords.  Can I get swords?”

“If you learn to use them properly with Drift,” Megatron promised him.  “How did you know he wouldn’t be comfortable in the palace?”

“When Ratchet mentioned Turmoil.  I’m not dumb, Master.  The files you brought were for a case, and Drift lives with the Autobots even though his files were with the Decepticons.  That means something happened in Decepticon territory to make him leave.”

“You’re truly brilliant, my pet,” Megatron chuckled.  “Would you like to go home, or would you like to go someplace else?”

Rodimus purred lightly while he lifted his hips a little higher on the next stroke, shuttering his optics.  “Actually, I have a better idea of what we can do…” he murmured.

Megatron raised an optic ridge, keying into what he had in mind quickly.  “Oh, my pet?  What would that be?” he still asked.

“I think I deserve a reward for being good at Ratchet’s house.”

“Oh, do you?” Megatron chuckled.  His strokes started to become more firm but slower.  “And what kind of reward do you think you deserve?”

Rodimus pushed himself off of the door, moving to straddle his master’s lap.  “I deserve something long, and thick, and hard…” he whispered, pushing himself full-body against Megatron.

“Hmm, that does sound like a good treat for an obedient little pet,” Megatron murmured in return, wrapping his arms around Rodimus’s waist and hooking his hands under his aft.  He could feel the building heat radiating there, causing his own spike to begin to pressurize.  “And where would my pretty pet want his reward?”

“Somewhere hot…” Rodimus vented out heavily as he pushed his hips back against the massaging hands.  “And wet… and tight…”

“You know, for someone who objected to this not long ago,” Megatron couldn’t help but tease as he leaned forward, faceplates nearly touching, “You seem to be turning into quite the ‘back of the transport’ kind of mech, yourself.”

“It’s your fault,” Rodimus chuckled.  He nudged their olfactory sensors together as the air from their vents mingled.  “It’s all your training.  I can’t get enough of you, even in a place like this.”

“Hmm, perhaps so.  I should see what else I can train you to love…” Megatron whispered before he closed the gap between them and claimed Rodimus’s lip components.  He ran his right hand up Rodimus’s backstrut to his spoiler, gently running a servo along the edge of it.  Up every dip and sharp curve, across every sensitive tip.  Every time he ran it across a spoiler tip, the sports car in his arms shuddered, and his interface panel flared with heat.  The ruler ran his glossa across his pet’s bottom lip, coaxing it open so he could invade.  He explored Rodimus’s mouth with his glossa like it was the first time, running across dentae and curling around the glossa found inside.

Rodimus vented heavily, allowing his master to do as he wished, like a good pet.  When Megatron’s mouth finally moved from his down his jaw and to his neck cables, he vented in sharply and moaned.  “Master…”

“I’m going to start with your training with a simple instruction,” Megatron commanded into the wiring.  “Do not open your valve panel until I say so.”

“Y-yes, Master…” Rodimus groaned.  He would do his best to be a good, obedient little pet.  Megatron had no doubt in that.

Megatron nibbled on the cable at the front of Rodimus’s throat, right above his collar, being gentle with it.  At the same time, his massaging of Rodimus’s aft moved down to his thigh, teasing the wires in the joint between it and his interface array.  He moved his other hand down front to Rodimus’s valve panel, running his servos across it.  Rodimus hitched, and his panel shuddered, but he resolutely kept it closed.  “Good, Rodimus.  So obedient…” Megatron whispered to him as he leaned behind Rodimus’s shoulderplate and closed his mouth around one of the sensitive tips of his spoiler, eliciting a cry.  He circled his glossa around it, teasing the very end of it with the tip of his glossa.  Rodimus arched his back, his venting hot and rapid.  His legs squeezed against Megatron’s hips as he held true to his master’s orders.

Megatron ran his glossa along the edge of the spoiler, sucking and licking at the next point on it.  He moved his hand on Rodimus’s straining valve panel up to the other side of his spoiler, tweaking and teasing the points there as well.

“F… frag!  Master!  So… so nice…” Rodimus moaned, grinding his hips down into his master’s in desperation.  His vents hitched as he grasped Megatron’s shoulders and rolled his hips.  “I… I c-can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” Megatron encouraged him as he moved his mouth to a point closer inwards.  He met Rodimus’s enthusiastic grinding with his own, relishing in the feeling of the beautiful mech pressed so desperately against him.  “Just a little longer.  You can do it, my beautiful pet.”

Rodimus bit his bottom lip but then let out a cry, his valve panel coming open with a rush of lubricant.  It wasn’t a proper overload, but he was so desperately heated that it reacted to the open air as soon as he was exposed.  He vented loudly, sitting there with his valve open for a moment without saying anything.  “I-I’m so sorry, M-Master…” he said lightly as he reached between them and began rubbing his anterior node frantically.  “I t-t-tried… oh, FRAG!”

“It’s alright, my pet,” Megatron assured him.  “You tried valiantly.  We’ll simply have to work on it.  In the meantime, you still deserve your reward.”  To emphasize his point, Megatron retracted his spike panel, the organ pressurizing fully.  “However, because you couldn’t hold out it will come with a new order.  You will pleasure yourself on it, but you will not overload first.  If you do, then I will not be as lenient as I was with my first order.”

Rodimus swallowed and nodded, positioning his valve, so the tip of his master’s spike penetrated the entrance.  He moaned as he slowly lowered himself down on it, Megatron groaning in response to the feeling of the tight, dripping cavern enveloping him.  The pet leaned back as he stuffed himself full of his master, giving a clear show of the breeding organ sinking inside.  Once he was fully impaled, venting and moaning at the completeness of it, he ground down a couple of times before dragging himself back up the huge spike and repeating the process.  Up and down he moved his body, pausing every once in a while to adjust or grind before proceeding.

Megatron had to fight for his own self-control, keeping his arms and hands on the back of the seat.  It was the only thing preventing him from grabbing Rodimus by the hips and pounding into him like he desperately wanted.  But he had to teach Rodimus self-control.  So he endured the torturously slow fragging Rodimus was doing to himself.  At least, slow for the first few kliks.  Finally, Rodimus began to pick up the pace as he bounced himself in Megatron’s lap, fragging himself in quicker, shallower thrusts.

“Oh… oh, Master… oh, frag, Master, that feels so good!” Rodimus began rambling, throwing his helm back as he found leverage by grasping Megatron by the shoulder, the other hand behind him on the ruler’s thigh.  “More… more, Master!  Please, more!”  His processor couldn’t seem to comprehend the fact that he was doing this to himself if his words were to be believed.

“That’s it, my pet,” Megatron groaned in response, keeping himself still.  “Ride my spike, just like that.  Such a good pet…”  He was beginning to think that Rodimus might actually succeed in making his master overload first.  He didn’t actually think that would be possible this first time.

“M-Master, yes!” Rodimus cried out as he thrust his hips downwards, his valve dripping lubricant all over Megatron’s lap.  They didn’t care, though.  Nothing was as important as the pleasure they were feeling right then.  “I c-can’t… I can’t do this alone… please, Master… _please_ …”

Megatron almost gave in, hearing his pet’s pretty begging.  He had to halt his hips from thrusting upwards and meeting him.  “No, Rodimus,” he said firmly.  “You must do this on your own.  I know you can do it.  Make me overload.”

Rodimus cried out and pushed himself forward, wrapping his arms around Megatron’s neck and pulling him down into a crushing kiss as his enthusiastic bounces turned to short, grinding, desperate thrusts.  They practically devoured each other, glossas intertwining and wrestling.  Rodimus’s legs squeezing Megatron’s hips as his hips gyrated and ground.  His valve seemed to tighten around Megatron’s spike as he did, servos clawing at the back of his master’s helm and neck.

That was when Megatron lost all pretense of self-control, as he felt himself peak.  He brought his arms around his beautiful pet, thrusting his hips upwards and fragging Rodimus’s valve hard the last few moments before overload hit him.  He released Rodimus’s mouth, burying his faceplate in the red and orange mech’s neck as he pulled his pet against him.  Transfluid shot from his spike, filling Rodimus’s valve and causing the younger mech to cry out as well.  He hung on like that until the last spurts of transfluid left him, pushing himself back to lean against the seat as he vented heavily.

“Master...” Rodimus’s vocals pierced through his haze.  “I… I need to overload, too, Master… please…”

Megatron onlined an optic and looked down at his pet, realizing that he was right.  In fulfilling the duty given to him, it left Rodimus without an overload when Megatron was satisfied.  “Come here, my pet,” he murmured, wrapping his servos around Rodimus’s thighs and lifting him off of his spent spike.  He then moved the servos on his right hand to the filled but still hot valve, pushing three inside.

Rodimus cried out as he felt the servos inside of him, grinding down on them.  He began bouncing himself on those like he did with Megatron’s spike.  This time, however, the ruler didn’t deny him the help.  He pushed and pulled his servos out of Rodimus’s valve, allowing him to ride it to his own overload.

“Oh… oh, yes!  Yes!  Master!  Please, more, I need… I need to overload!  I need it so badly!” Rodimus rambled again as he reached a hand down to join his master’s, rubbing his anterior node once again as he cried out.

“That’s it, my pet,” Megatron encouraged, fanning his servos inside of the sticky valve, uncaring for the mess they were making with the transfluid that filled it.  “Overload for me…”

“Master!  I’m going to!  I’m… I’m so close!  Yes, Master! _Master!  I’m… I’m overloading!  I’M-!”_   With that last cry, Rodimus reached his climax.  He screamed out as he clung to his master, lubricant, and transfluid rushing out of his thoroughly used valve.  He slumped forward into Megatron’s waiting arms, venting deeply as he tried to regulate his temperature.

“That’s my good pet,” Megatron praised, petting Rodimus’s helm.  “I told you that you could do it.”

Rodimus smiled after a moment, snuggling in.  They were approaching the palace, but he was obviously too exhausted to even think of leaving the transport.  “I think I’m gonna go take a stasis nap when we get back…” he muttered.

“Whatever you wish, my Rodimus,” Megatron assured him.  He leaned down and kissed Rodimus on top of his helm.


End file.
